Nobody Real by Steven Camden

Author:Steven Camden [Steven Camden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-01-21T16:00:00+00:00

“I have to go back.”

You’re in front of my window, your arms reaching out, confused.

“What?”

“I have to go back. This wasn’t … I’m not supposed … It’s not … Blue.”

“What’s not blue? Go back where?”

You stop yourself saying more.

Your eyes close and your arms go down.

“Nowhere. Doesn’t matter.”

Behind you the sky is wet newspaper grey.

“Are you OK, Thor?”

“I’m fine. What happened?”

“I had the dream.”

“What dream?”

“The same one. About what happened. To Sean.”

You look down at your hands. “I should go, Marcie.”

Shake my head. “Please stay.”

You lie down next to me. The two of us on my bed. Like before. When it was easy.

Some kind of bird is singing outside.

“I remember that crack,” you say, pointing at the black cardiograph line in the ceiling. “I saw it that first night.”

“I think it grew,” I say, my forearm brushing the rough fur of yours. “Do you think that means the house is slowly coming down?”

“Yeah. Slowly.”

I breathe in and wait, breathing out in sync when you exhale.

You’re thinking something loud. Something you want to say but can’t.

“What did I do, Thor? What have I done?”

I turn my head. You stare up at the crack.

“Exactly what you wanted to.”

Birmingham monsoon.

The kind of fat raindrops that splash on your tongue.

Dark thunderclouds smother the sun.

I keep my hair under the umbrella. You happily stomp through puddles ahead of me like you’re following a giant’s footsteps.

“Why so happy?” I say.

You look back over your shoulder, a big grin on your face. “Purpose.” You do a high two-footed jump and splash into a deep puddle at the base of a tree.

“Remember when it used to rain and then after you’d make me come with you on ‘operation snail rescue’?”

“Course I do.”

“We must’ve saved hundreds.”

“Yep. And nobody even knew.”

You strike a karate pose. “Invisible heroes!”

I stop walking. “What do you do, Thor? When you’re not with me?”

You turn on your heels, still in attack stance, the fur on your arms dark and drenched.

“I smash stuff.”

Heavy droplets thump against the umbrella skin. “That’s all I’m getting?”

“’Fraid so.”

“This isn’t normal though, is it?”

You spread your arms and walk backwards. I step back from the kerb as a bus approaches. You see it coming and stand fast.

“What the hell’s normal?”

And you smile as a tidal wave of gutter water hits you in the chest.

Bliss

noun

1. Supreme happiness; utter joy or contentment: the feeling of being left alone in a room full of books on a rainy day with a good coffee and no adults giving you grief.

– Dictionary of Marcie, Oxford Press

It’s like the best wet break ever.

Dad’s writing upstairs. The shop is empty. Ella and Louis on the stereo. You’re in the corner by the window. I sit behind the till, feeling the calm of time slowing down.

“Let’s move stuff around,” you say.

“What do you mean?”

You’re already pushing the display tables together, easing them both to the back of the room.

“Thor, what are you doing, what about customers?”

“What customers?” And you walk out the back.

“Hey!”

The front of the shop looks bigger with the space.

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