Read Between the Lies, page 14
The door opens.
His morning suit is hanging on the wardrobe door.
His bed is empty.
His room is empty.
Tommy has gone.
Teh dcesiion
Never imagined I’d climb out that window and jump down from that garage roof again. But then I never imagined I’d be in a situation like this again. Where everything’s gone wrong. And I need to run.
The winter frost works its way into me. Should have put more clothes on. Not that it matters. Not that anything matters. What’s a bit of cold when the person you loved has lied to you, over and over and over, year after year after year? Why did I look at those letters? Because I was practising my reading. Because of her. Because of her wedding. Because I wanted to make her happy for once.
I sit on the swing, thoughts crashing into each other, like dodgem cars. Hear a vibration deep within my coat. Want to ignore it. Want everyone inside it to go away. But phones have always had a hold over me. Can never ignore a message. Might never have ended up inside if it wasn’t for my phone, and the stories it told. Pull it from my pocket and look at the screen.
Ryan.
What the hell does he want? Me, of course. Bet he’s been dashing round the house, from room to room, like a fly looking for an open window.
Tommy. Anyone seen Tommy?
Want to ignore him. But none of this is his fault.
‘Yeah,’ I snarl.
‘Tommy, where the heck are you?’ he says, all breathless.
‘At the park.’
‘What you doing there? You’re meant to be getting ready for church.’
‘I’m not going.’
There’s a big pause, as Ryan’s super-sized brain goes to work.
‘But you have to.’
That the best he can come up with?
‘Says who?’
‘Says… everyone.’
‘You do it, Ryan. Don’t need me.’
‘Wait there.’
Ryan hangs up.
I’m sitting on the swing she was sitting on, all those months ago. Holding the metal chains she held. It’s the closest I can get to her. Wish she was here now. She’d know what to do. Close my eyes. Think of us together, before I forced us apart. The good times we had. My mind paints her face, like it used to on those never-ending nights in Feltham. It eases some of the pain.
Open my eyes. In the distance, there’s a small man in a suit, running. Not a sight you often see on a Saturday morning. He’s coming towards me. As he gets closer, I see that it’s Ryan, all dressed up, his coat-tail flapping behind him like a small, black sail. He finally reaches me, panting hard, doubled over with the effort. After gasping in great gob-fulls of cold air, he produces some words.
‘Tommy, you’ve got to get ready,’ he pants.
Shrug.
‘It’s your mam’s wedding day.’
‘So I see.’
Should I tell Ryan now? Would make life so much easier. Would also make life so much worse. If I tell him, he won’t want to go either. That really would detonate Mum’s big day.
‘Are you just gonna sit here in the freezing cold?’
‘Maybe.’
‘What’s the matter? You told me you wanted to nail your reading to make your mam happy.’
That was before I climbed the ladder into the loft.
‘Come on, Tommy. Don’t ruin it. It’s a big day for me dad too. And you. And me.’
Hadn’t thought of Ryan. He’s done nothing to deserve this. Sure he loves his mum, but he didn’t do anything to stop his dad getting married. He’s tried hard to help me read. He moved into a tiny, box bedroom in a house of strangers. Not been easy for him either.
‘You could do both readings.’
‘No,’ shouts Ryan, stamping the blackest shoe I’ve ever seen. ‘You’re ready for this. You’re gonna do it.’ He pulls some paper from his suit pocket. ‘I’ve printed out your reading. Thirty-six point. You could see it from outer space. I’ve got you a ruler,’ he says, pulling it from an inside pocket, ‘and a yellow overlay,’ he goes, pulling that from another pocket, like a young magician. Only a matter of time before a white dove appears. ‘You can’t go wrong with these.’
Ryan’s like the teacher who’s hard to argue with. Rest my forehead on the cold, metal chains. Thinking. Thinking.
‘Spoke to Dad. He says there’s a lectern in the church. You can put your papers on it and use the ruler. No one will see it. You can do this, Tommy.’
Close my eyes. Imagine the smile on Mum’s face. Proud. The son who turned his life around. Maybe she deserves this happy day. Before the unhappy ones to follow.
‘Please, Tommy.’
‘Okay, stop banging on about it, Ryan. I’ll go.’
A smile as wide as the Joker’s lights up his face. He leans over and gives me an awkward hug. I get off the swing.
‘What’s that on your chin? Been in a knife fight?’
‘It’s nothing.’ Ryan looks nervously at his watch. ‘You’re gonna have to get a move on. We’re so late. Run, Tommy, run.’
Ryan’s right again.
I turn and sprint for home.
Wddieng Dya nreves
‘Bride or groom?’
‘Bride.’
As the pews fill up, notice there are far more on Naomi’s side of the church than Dad’s. If they were getting married on a boat, it would capsize. Reckon Mam would be delighted about this.
I stamp me feet to stay warm in the draughty church porch. Glance at Tommy. He’s like a model for a morning-suit company. How can he look that good having spent a fraction of the time getting ready? All the lasses go to him for their Order of Service.
I give him a smile. A tiny upturn of his mouth is me reward. Wish I knew what was going on in that mixed-up head of his. The reading will be over in a blink. No one will even pay much attention to it. They haven’t got dressed up, travelled miles, and sat in a refrigerated old building to hear a young guy talk about the meaning of love.
I’ve tried so hard to lift his confidence, but it would be easier to raise the Titanic. Whatever is up, he’s clinging to it as if his life depends on it. Today, Naomi, and everyone else for that matter, are way too wrapped up in the wedding to notice how grumpy he is. When she asked me where Tommy was, I told her he’d gone for a walk, going over his speech.
Dad walks down from the front of the church. He looks great in his suit.
‘How’s it gannin’, lads?’
‘Canny.’
Tommy opts for a shrug.
‘Next week I’ll teach you how to shave, Ryan.’
Naomi’s sister needs a more powerful concealer.
Dad pulls up his jacket sleeve and looks at his watch. Haven’t seen him this nervous since he told me he and Mam were splitting up.
‘Got your readings?’ he asks.
Pat me jacket pocket.
Tommy shrugs again.
‘Just want to say how proud I am of you both.’
‘Thanks.’
Nothing from usher number two. Even Dad, with his nervousness, can’t fail to spot Tommy’s the opposite of relaxed.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah,’ he grunts.
Sure you’re not meant to lie in church, but as we’re standing in the porch maybe it doesn’t count. Dad puts a reassuring hand on Tommy’s shoulder.
‘It’s all going to go gangbusters,’ says Dad, and he goes back into church to carry on with his fidgeting.
Check me watch. The wedding’s due to start at noon. It’s now 11.52. In the churchyard, all I can see are rows and rows of dead people. No living people are coming our way.
‘Reckon everyone’s inside. Shall we take our seats, Tommy?’ The guy who’s become fluent in shrugging, delivers another one. ‘Remember what I said. It’s not fear inside you. It’s excitement.’
I have never seen anyone look more unexcited than Tommy.
We leave the few remaining Order of Service booklets on a bench in the porch, and walk down the aisle as the organist plays something way beyond me fingers.
‘Got everything you need?’ I whisper.
‘Yeah,’ he mutters. ‘Everything.’
As we both have speaking parts Tommy and I have places reserved for us, near the front.
We approach our pews.
‘You turn right. I turn left,’ I say, trying to break the ice.
The ice stays solid. He remains stony-faced.
Touch him on his elbow.
‘Good luck, Tommy.’
Dceision tmie
Should have stayed on the park swing.
I’d still be there now if Ryan hadn’t come for me. Don’t want to be here. Don’t want to do what I’m about to do. I put my hand inside my jacket pocket to check the papers. They’re still there. Waiting for my moment.
It’s not so bad for Ryan. Hardly any of his dad’s friends and relatives are here. But Mum’s got a full turnout. Her mum and dad, her sister and her husband and kids, aunts, uncles, cousins, some relative from Canada I’ve never even seen before, except in photos, have all turned up. Then there’s all her friends, with their partners and children. To make matters worse, if that’s possible, Mum’s not only hired a photographer, she’s having the whole thing recorded. Everything is going to be caught on film, to be watched over and over.
She’s going to regret that.
Should have spoken to Mum. Told her what I’d found. Then she’d understand why I’ve been acting so strange these last few weeks. Doubt she’d want me to read then. But typical Tommy, I kept my mouth shut. What is it with me? Had no problem saying yes to Logan and his gang. And yes to Ryan’s stupid requests. How come I can’t talk to my mum, the person I’ve known longer than anyone? Maybe we’re both too good at keeping secrets. Before my thoughts can beat me up further, the organ music stops.
Then it starts again.
Here comes the bride.
Heads turn, as if there’s been an accident. Through the hats and big hair I see her. Instead of Mum there’s this amazing-looking woman in a flowing white dress, on the arm of her dad, Grandad Eric. Camera phones click. Mum has a serene smile on her face, like she’s the happiest person on the planet.
The polar opposite of me.
Clench my fists. How can I feel so angry on a day like this? I guess anger is a gatecrasher that turns up whenever it likes. I want to forgive her. I want to cut all hate from my heart, at least for today. Put on a performance, the dutiful, loving son. But not sure I can. The hurt she’s caused is way too big.
She walks calmly up the aisle, focused on one person, the man in the suit waiting for her with tears in his eyes.
The priest, a short, middle-aged man with a dusting of beard, addresses the crowd.
‘The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you.’
‘And also with you,’ says everyone.
Apart from me.
He rambles on, his words drifting over me, like smoke.
‘We have come together to witness the marriage of Naomi and Mark, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.’
Then my ears prick up.
‘First, I’m required to ask anyone present who knows a reason why these persons may not lawfully marry, to declare it now.’
I do.
But it’s like in lessons, when the embarrassment of getting it wrong overpowers the chance of getting it right. I keep my mouth shut.
The time isn’t right. But it’s fast approaching.
And then everyone will know.
Ryn raeds
‘I will now call upon Ryan to give the first reading.’
Ease me way past Aunty Freya and Charlie, Dad’s best man. Step over a kneeling pad and into the aisle, me heart tapping away at the poem in me pocket. I’m worried. But not for me. For Tommy. I glance back at him, but his head is down, as if he’s about to dive off a cliff.
Make me way to the lectern and take out me piece of paper. The reading is neatly laid out.
I’ve been asked to give readings at school tons of times. Know I’m pretty good at it. Also know something else. This isn’t just about me. I decide the reading won’t be me best. Not because I don’t want Naomi and Dad to be proud of me, but because I don’t want Tommy to be shown up. I know how much that would kill him.
Look down at the page. Mam once suggested I joined the school debating society. I learned all about standing tall, speaking loudly, clearly, at a steady pace, giving key words a little extra volume, and how to pause briefly in places, to let the message sink in. Today, I think I’ll do things differently.
I begin to speak.
‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.’
I look up briefly from the words. Although me reading merits at best a seven out of ten, I see Naomi and Dad smiling up at me, as if I’m a great Shakespearean actor at the lectern, not a sixteen-year-old boy with big ears and a cut on his chin.
‘If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.’
The end of Sonnet 116.
People don’t clap in church, but a sea of smiles tell me it’s gone well. Gather the single piece of paper and head back to me seat. Catch Dad’s eye. He gives me a thumbs up.
I look at Tommy again. Want to give him some sign of encouragement, but his eyes are still on his shoes. I ease me way along the pew, getting a couple of ‘well dones’ on the way.
‘For the second reading I’d like to welcome Thomas.’
Tmmoy’s bg monemt
For a second I wonder who the priest is talking about.
Then realise it’s me.
Grandma Ellie nudges me gently with her elbow. The moment I’ve been thinking about non-stop all these weeks is finally here. I move into the aisle, past Georgia, Mum’s best friend, and Hayley, who messed things up for me. Make my way slowly to the lectern. Heart pounding away, I stand behind it, and look at the faces all turned my way. They’re not the expressions you get from some of those in class, wishing you to fail, hoping you’ll give them a good laugh. They’re smiling, encouraging, hopeful.
Take the papers out of my pocket and lean them against the wood.
I grip the lectern and look down at the words.
My dearest Naomi, I’m so sorry I can’t be there with you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
I have the letters from the loft.
Only decided to bring them this morning, after Ryan found me in the park. What better time, what better place than her own wedding to reveal what Mum did? The words that have been tormenting me are here under the palms of my sweaty hands. I have the explosive device I want. Now all I need is the courage to pull the pin.
Can feel the anger swell within me. But sense something else too. The confusion of the congregation.
Why doesn’t he speak?
Because I’m confused too. Why did she do it? Why did she not tell me?
A voice from out there. ‘You okay, Tommy?’
Mum.
Daren’t look at her. Know if I do, I’ll never go through with it. Grip the lectern tighter. Then I spot some words I hadn’t seen before. They’re written on the top of my reading.
Good luck, Tommy. You’ll smash it.
Ryan has broken the spell. I can’t go through with it. I can’t read the letters. Not now. I promised Mum I’d never hurt her again. This has to wait.
Be of good behaviour.
I take my poem and place it on top of the letters. The words are enormous. I’m sure sixteen point would have done. Don’t need the overlay. But slip the plastic ruler from my pocket and place it against the top line. Can sense the eyes on me, the cameras, the phones. Can’t destroy Mum’s moment. Can’t let myself down. Can’t let Ryan down.
Feel a bead of sweat. I’m back in my minefield. But I know by treading as lightly as a spider I can reach the other side.
Excitement. Not fear.
A big breath.
Then I begin.
‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.’
I’m jolted by the shock of hearing myself speak. As if it’s someone else. But the moment passes, as moments do, and I relax into the flow. The words are as familiar as the plates I eat off. As I ease through, my excitement increases.
‘I love thee freely as men strive for right.’
My voice grows louder. Stronger.
The words are no longer enemies.
I turn a page. The end is in sight. Almost wish Elizabeth had written some more.
‘I shall but love thee better after death.’
The end.
Peer over the paper, Mum is beaming at me. She wipes her eyes.
I made the right choice.
For once.
I’ve made her happy.
If only for a minute.
Hsbaund adn weif
Tommy did a brilliant job.
But don’t know why it took him an eternity to get going. He just kept staring at the poem, as if he didn’t know what it was. But he did it, handled the pressure of reading out loud in front of so many people on such an important day.
Dead proud of him.
Give him two thumbs up, but he’s not looking my way, his eyes once more drawn downwards, shoulders slumped, like a sinner, deep in prayer.
The main event is about to start, the reason all those nails were painted, hats chosen, eyelashes curled, shoes polished, ties knotted and re-knotted, zippers zipped, hair cut and blow-dried, chins shaved, and then covered with foundation.
The wedding vows.
‘Mark, will you take Naomi to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?’
‘I will.’
A little shiver shoots through me. These are the same promises Dad made to Mam when he married her.
I will became I won’t.
Reckon they should put marriage vows up around the country. Like speed warnings. Remind people what they should be doing.
Mam pops into me head. So relieved she’s not here today. She’d have ruined it. For everyone. But the relief is quickly replaced by worry. What happens when she finds out I’ve tricked her? Maybe she’ll ask for all those Christmas presents back.
