two

BJ

I’ve got a few memories of Parks that live on a pedestal in my mind. Her face—beautiful, right? But that’s not what it’s about. I see her face and it sets off some old ache in me . . . Transports me somewhere else—her in my garden when I was six, all that light behind her that I can’t tell anymore whether the light was real or if it was just her. That day I got to St Barts, her in that yellow bikini. Her in the lilac bikini on that boat too, actually. When I gave her my family crest ring when we were at school. When I gave her it again when we were adults.

Other times too that I remember—this look in her eyes—this visceral, almost-punching that I feel sometimes like a phantom.

Like when I told her I cheated on her. Or when we lost Billie. When she found out it was Paili, the night she slept with Tom, Bridget . . .

I don’t think I’ll be able to get it out of my head, that girl I love on her knees at the side of her sister’s bed, holding her dead sister’s hand, weeping in this quiet way.

It was worse that it was quiet for some reason.

She’s easier to console when she goes big.

I remember standing there with Hen, waiting for the ambulance to get there, and we both just stared at Parks, bunched up by her dead sister’s body.

The ambulance arrived and Henry let them in.

She didn’t move away from Bridge by herself, I had to pull her away. Wrapped my arms around her, pulled her back into me.

I remember being glad I got to hold Parks then, because there’s something about losing someone how we were losing Bridge in that moment that makes you feel like you need to. Like if I hadn’t, I might have lost her too.

They tried to resuscitate Bridge on the spot but nothing.

“She needs to get to a hospital,” an A&E girl told us.

Magnolia stood. “I’ll ride with her.”

The emergency worker looked at me, eyes communicating something.

“Maybe you stick with me, Parks.” I nodded at her.

She shook her head.

“I need to be with Bridge.”

“You will be.” I gave her a gentle smile. “We’ll be right behind her.”

Magnolia shook her head. “She really shouldn’t be alone—”

“She won’t be.” I told her with a nod towards the medic standing there.

“I’ll be with her—” The A&E worker flashed Magnolia a weary smile. “My name’s Amy, and I’ll be with her the whole time.”

Henry’s unbelievable in situations like this. Packed us a bag. Hoodies, wallets, water. Things you’d never think about like phone chargers.

We got in the car. I can’t really remember how.

Henry drove. I sat in the back with Parks.

She sat in the middle. Put her head down in my lap, closed her eyes.

Feels like about then that her PTSD with cars really started to show its face around these parts.

A couple of years ago I tried to get her to walk from Selfridges on Oxford just to Saint Laurent on Old Bond and she bit my fucking head off. If you aren’t from London, that’s maybe a fifteen-minute walk. Less, with legs as long as hers. Take you more time to catch a fucking taxi, and it did.

But she’ll walk anywhere to avoid getting into a car now. She wasn’t like that before.

I don’t remember much of that drive, just my fingers in her hair and how Henry didn’t put anything on the radio as we followed the ambulance over to Chelsea and Westminster. The silence was loud enough. The rushing sounds of London around us as we raced through her, and this strange sense of knowing—

I didn’t have a lot of hope that Bridget was going to be okay—I don’t know why. I feel bad about that. Like maybe if I had more, she might still be here, but I just had a feeling, you know? As we pulled up to the hospital, the feeling got worse. Never wanted to be wrong so badly in my life.

It all happened pretty quickly once we got there—pulled into this room where they started trying to resuscitate her, and then we got sent out into a hallway after about a minute. Felt like a bad sign.

Henry knew it too, I could see it on him. I think Parks might have as well, because as soon as we were in the hall she was trembling. Her whole little body shaking and jittery, teeth chattering away.

I called her parents—don’t remember at what time that was. It needed to come from either me or her, and she couldn’t string words together so, me.

“What?” is how Harley answered the phone.

It was late by then. Not like I ever call him just for a chat, so I don’t know why he’d think I’d be calling him for any reason besides an emergency.

“We’re at the hospital, something’s wrong,” I said as no-frills as possible—not to be an arsehole, but because I needed him to hear the facts. “Bridget’s unconscious. We don’t know what happened.”

Pause.

“Is she okay?” their dad asked.

Pause.

“I don’t know, man.”

He said nothing.

“Should I call Arrie?” I asked. My voice was weird. Strangely calm. Sounded less scared than I was.

“No,” he said. Also calm. “I’ll do it.”

“Okay.”

“Which hospital?” he asked.

I told him. Shared my location so he could find us easier.

Then I called Jo; Jo then Christian then Taurs.

Didn’t take them long to get there, all six of us in that hallway.

They got there before her parents did.

Magnolia looked up at them all blankly. Christian kissed her on her head, grabbed my shoulder before sitting down on the floor opposite us.

Taurs gets real twitchy in emergencies. Flits around all busy and nervous. Got snacks and water for everyone, tried to make Parks sip some but she wouldn’t.

I think Jo knew. He has a sense for these things. Stared at me for a second, face heavy, said nothing but something about how he looked—I know he knew.

The chain of events feel weird in my memory—fractured—like parts of a dream.

I remember Henry pacing around the waiting area, Parks on my lap just staring at me. Eyes big and round like they were on our other worst day.

I wanted to be able to tell her it was going to be okay, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. I think I knew it wasn’t going to be—? Didn’t want to lie to her. That felt worse somehow too.

There was so much going on around us, even in that hallway late at night—and Parksy, right?—loves a distraction. Loves avoiding uncomfortable things, tries her hardest on a fucking daily basis to ignore them, but she didn’t look around, just kept her eyes on me.

Could have felt it, I reckon—if I knew to look for it—that mantle Bridget had being passed on down to me.

Because Magnolia looks at her sister when shit’s going down, always has. Maybe she’d look at me if I hadn’t been the shit that was usually going down. She’s never looked to her dad—why would she? Sometimes Hen would get a glance, but because of me, I think she felt like she was putting Hen in a shit position.

You know how ballerinas pick a spot to look at when they’re doing a pirouette so they don’t get dizzy?

Bridget was Magnolia’s spot on the wall.

When their parents arrived, it was Harley and Mars first.

They burst through the doors, stared over at us—he pressed his hand into his mouth when he saw Magnolia and then he looked away.

Turned to a nurse. Asked her a question I couldn’t hear.

Mars rushed over, pulled Magnolia up off my lap and hugged her.

Parks didn’t hug her back, but I don’t think that was for any particular reason, she was just sort of not there.

I remember I watched over at her dad, watched him not come to her.

“She’s going to be okay, Magnolia,” Mars told her, pulling away as she nodded vigorously.

Don’t like it when people say things they don’t really mean.

Parks barely nodded back but managed a few before she retreated back to me.

A little ball on my lap.

Arrie blew in not long after that.

Cyclone Arrie. Massive trench coat, some kind of negligee, heels and oversized sunglasses.

That Nathan guy with her, standing nervous by the door. Afraid of Harley or just fucking way in over his head, it was hard to tell.

“Where is she?” Arrie asked loudly.

Harley spoke to her in low words we couldn’t hear.

Mars made her way over, put her hand on Arrie’s arm.

Henry and me, we caught eyes.

Both thought it was weird that neither one of their parents came over to check on their other daughter.

Thought about calling my mum but decided—nah, it’s too many cooks—that tiny room was already too full.

Time goes funny in places like hospitals, don’t you think?

From when her parents arrived til a doctor came out to speak to us, I don’t know how much time passed. Hours? Minutes?

All I really remember is holding Parks’ hand and pressing my family ring into her.

Hadn’t taken to wearing the diamonds yet.

Now she wears the crest on a pendant how she used to and the diamonds on her finger. The crest ring never fit her anyway. She had to wear a little ring on top of it to stop it from coming off.

I was spinning the ring around her finger, trying to think of anything but what life might look like if what I was worried was happening actually happened and Magnolia’s head was resting heavy on my chest when the door opened and a doctor came out—

Magnolia scrambled onto her feet, eyes desperate. I stood up after her, eyed the doctor, nervous.

Wouldn’t fancy his chance at poker. Didn’t need to say the words—he still said them anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he told us solemnly. “We did everything we could.”

Arrie let out this wail that surprised all of us, I think. Guttural.

Next surprise on the agenda was Harley turning from Marsaili and holding his ex-wife.

Least surprising of all, neither of them clock Magnolia.

But fuck them because she doesn’t need her parents anyway; she never has, even if she thinks she does. She doesn’t. She has us.

She turned around to face me, eyes all glassy. She said nothing, I said nothing—just grabbed her and held her.

She didn’t cry. Not then, anyway.

She saved it all up for later that night when it was just me and her in my old bedroom at my mum’s house.

In the hospital, the little family she built for herself gathered around her, locked arms and didn’t let go. Didn’t budge til Harley finally came over, told us it was time to leave.

Parks stared over at him, eyes probably more defiant than I’ve ever seen them and fuck, I’ve seen them defiant—

“I’m not leaving her,” she told her dad.

He swallowed heavy, looked over at me for help.

Didn’t offer him any more than a nod of my chin.

“We’re good here,” I told him.

He nodded his head subtly towards Magnolia. She didn’t see. Asked me without asking me to look after her. Like I haven’t been doing it all my life anyway—like I needed the prompting.

He’s always been a bit like that. Nods his chin at her when she’s not looking. He cares more than she realises, I’ve told her that. She says if he cared at all he’d nod his chin at her less and just look after her himself.

Hard to argue with that.

Henry sat down against a hospital wall and patted the ground next to him once.

Magnolia went and sat next to him wordlessly. Christian sat on her other side, didn’t say anything, didn’t look at her, just stared straight ahead with a look that’s hard to place. He lost a sister too. Wasn’t a grimace, not a smile. He was sorry for her. Knew there was nothing he could say.

Before her parents left, Marsaili tried to get Parks to go home with them, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll make you a tea at home, darling. Come,” Mars told her with a gentle smile.

Magnolia’s eyes drifted over to her stepmother’s, stared at her, blinked twice, then looked over at me.

Mars followed her gaze, breathed out tired when our eyes caught.

I did my best to give her a reassuring nod. “I’ve got her.”

Marsaili walked over, held my face in her hand.

“Yes, you do.”

Might be the heaviest thing anyone’s ever said to me, actually.

After that, I don’t know how long we stayed for. Time slips and drags in moments like those. Well into the night though. Parks didn’t move, sandwiched between my brother and Christian, just shifted her head between their shoulders, eyes on me.

I sat down across from her. Leant against the opposite wall, took a minute to take stock of myself.

Pushed down all the feelings I felt. Tried to pack away that I lost someone too. Someone who might as well have been my own sister, someone who’s shaped my life and how I now live it as much if not maybe more than anyone, besides Parks—maybe even more than Parks?

Tausie and Jo went for a McDonald’s run somewhere around two a.m. Magnolia didn’t have a bite. Didn’t cross my mind at that time what that might’ve signalled. Henry put a straw in a bottle of water, raised it to her lips. She sipped on it, rubbed on those eyes of hers all tired. Still didn’t look away from me.

“You okay?” Jo asked as he sat down next to me.

I shook my head slightly, didn’t want her to see.

“I can’t have this conversation right now—” I barely looked him in the eyes. “I need to be—”

Jo nodded, gave me a solemn look. “I know.”

He threw his arm around me and didn’t say anything else after that.

A few hours later, when Magnolia’s blinks started to turn to drags, a very brave Taura asked her if maybe it was time we headed home.

Magnolia glared over at her, shook her head.

Christian elbowed her. “What do you need, Parks?”

She stared at him a few seconds. “To see her.”

Christian looked over at me and nodded once.

He stood, I followed after him over to the girl at a desk. He gave her a tight smile as he pointed over at Parks.

“She needs to see her sister.”

The girl shook her head. “That’s not really how—”

He cut her off. “I’ll transfer you £10,000 right now, on the spot, if you let her in to see her.”

The nurse’s face faltered.

Christian shrugged. “It’s four in the morning. No one’s here. We won’t tell anyone. No one’s going to go in with her besides him—” He gestured to me. “She won’t go home til she sees her—” He leant in closer to the woman and said in a low, tired voice. “And I really fucking want to go home.”

The woman nodded once.

I walked back over to Parks, offered her my hand. She took it without thinking and I pulled her to her feet.

“Let’s go see her.”

Her eyes went wide and her face got nervous.

I squeezed her hand to make her feel a bit safer in a world that had just become undeniably less safe for all of us a couple of hours ago.

The nurse led us into the room.

Parks stood in front of me, not letting go of my hand.

Worse than you think it’s going to be . . . And it wasn’t like it was gory or bloody or scary, even—

It’s just this girl we love, all fucking still on a table.

Magnolia did this quiet little gasp I think I’ll hear on repeat in my brain forever. Hated it. Made me want to die. Never want to hear her make that sound again.

She squeezed my hand after that. Dug her nails in so deep I’d find cuts later.

Bridge looked normal, really. Lips were maybe a tiny bit paler.

Like she was sleeping.

Magnolia’s trembling hand reached out and touched her sister’s face.

She barely brushed it before she snatched her hand back, like death is a thing you can catch.

I slipped my arms around her waist, pressed my mouth into the back of her head, tried to steady her without having to lie.

“It’s okay” was a lie, so I didn’t say it to her.

It wasn’t okay. Couldn’t see how it would be okay anytime soon or ever even, if I’m honest.

“Will I see her again?” Parks’ smallest voice asked.

“I’m not sure,” I told her, but it was muffled by her hair.

“Then I don’t want to go,” she said.

I breathed out, kissed the back of her head.

“We can stay as long as you like, Parksy—” She nodded quickly and I kept going, as I nodded at the body on the table. “But she doesn’t live in this anymore.”

She turned around in my arms and looked up at me, tired.

She blinked a few times, lids dragging over her eyes like they were made of sandpaper.

“I’m scared, Beej,” she told me, eyes made of glass.

She didn’t say of what. Didn’t need to.

When we walked out of that room, it would be real. Everything would change forever. We knew, once we walked out of that room, we would live in a world where Bridget Parks is dead. Not ‘could be dead,’ not ‘maybe dying somewhere in a hospital room’ with the chance of being revived—but properly dead, life gone, body cold with a strange stillness we won’t ever all the way unsee.

“I’m scared too,” I told Magnolia as I kissed the top of her head.

She turned back to her sister’s body, crouched down close to her ear.

“Please come back,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Please?”

She waited a few seconds that felt like decades and nothing happened—of course nothing happened. Bridge was very gone at that point. I think she’d been gone since the flat, really.

Magnolia’s hands flew to her face, covering it. In public, trying to stay composed.

It’s habit, wasn’t conscious.

She rushed past me to leave the room and I knew I needed to go after her, knew that then was not the time or the place for me to feel anything, but you know what, I loved her too.

I swiped my face, brushed away the tears, and then I bent down, my chin shaking. I reckon me and Parks probably only found our way back to each other because of her sister. Reckon I’m clean probably because of her too.

I kissed the head of the straightest shooter I’ll ever know.

I couldn’t tell whether it felt strange and waxy in my mind because she was dead or because bodies actually just do feel different once life leaves them.

Put away how sick I felt and ran after Parks. Found her in my brother’s arms.

Hen nodded his head towards the door.

We pulled up outside the girls’ Grosvenor Street flat. Magnolia’s head in my lap, took me and Henry a solid five seconds to realise no fucking way in hell should we have brought Parks back to the place she found her sister dead in her bed.

Hen peeled out, headed to the safest place we know.

My parents have lived in the same house my whole life. Cadogan Place in Belgravia. Whenever anyone would get too fucked up, too drunk, too sad—whatever—they’d come here.

Mum’s good for it. Doesn’t judge you. Just wants to help you.

Henry must have called her at some point, I guess because when I helped Magnolia walk up the front steps, the door swung open before we were at the top of them and my mum swooped. Threw her arms around the love of my life, started crying on her behalf.

Magnolia let Mum hold her. Didn’t cry though.

That made me nervous.

Mum looked over at me, eyes heavy and sad for us. For Parks. For my sister.

“Allie doesn’t know,” Mum mouthed to me over Parks’ shoulder.

I nodded.

She pulled back to look at Magnolia.

“You should sleep, darling,” Mum told her.

Magnolia shook her head.

“I can’t,” she told Mum, looking past her in a distant way.

Mum’s brows furrowed in concern. “Oh?”

“She needs a shower,” I told Mum quietly.

Mum reached for her wrist. “It’s so late, sweetheart. Perhaps just shower in the m—”

“She can’t, Mum,” I said, firmer now. Magnolia looked over her shoulder at me and our eyes caught like she’s grateful for something.

Mum’s face faltered. “Why?”

“Dead people,” Parks and I said at the same time.

“Germs,” I added, with a subtle tap on my head.

Mum swallowed and nodded once, looked embarrassed like she should have known that herself. It’s not necessarily the kind of thing that lives on the forefront of someone else’s mind if you don’t live with a maniac who feels germs in her mind, not just on her body.

“Room’s ready. Towels are on the bed. Can I make you something to eat?”

Magnolia shook her head.

“A tea?”

She shook her head again.

“Some water, Mum,” Henry told her with a nod towards the kitchen.

“Come on.” I slipped my hand back in hers and led her up the stairs.

I moved her through this house we both grew up in, through into my old bedroom that I’d sneak her into every fucking chance I got, and then into the bathroom.

I turned on the shower and the room fogged up quickly because I suppose the world got colder the moment Bridget left it.

Parks stared over at me, eyes so heavy I didn’t know how to hold them.

She was still in the white dress she was in from dinner. In the few weeks between when we got engaged til that moment in time when everything changed, Magnolia took every chance she got to look like a bride.

I stood behind her, unzipped the dress. Monique something. Very bride-y. It fell to the ground.

I crouched down to the floor, lifted her ankle and pulled her heel off her foot. Lifted her other ankle, took the other one off.

Couldn’t believe she spent the night in heels. Hadn’t even noticed.

She was standing there, not moving, staring at herself in the mirror.

Strapless bra from Fleur du Mal. Know that one. Picked it myself. Matching knickers.

I slipped my T-shirt off over my head. Tugged off my jeans, kicked off my shoes.

I reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra, didn’t look down, didn’t look sideways. My eyes held hers and I could see for the first time since we left her house that there was a tear sitting on the edge of her eyelashes.

I brought her into the shower.

Washed her down. Didn’t miss an inch of her because it’s a mind thing. It’s hard to articulate but I think she worries that outside things can seep in. Once we were on the street and a crazy man yelled at her, kind of got in her face a bit, towered over her for a few seconds before I got over to her. We had about five showers that night. We weren’t together at the time—I mean, we were. Who are we kidding?—but she let me in the shower that night.

Scrubbed her down. Tried to wash that feeling off her.

Didn’t know how I was going to wash this one off her though.

Any other night, it would’ve been fucking hot—her eyes locked on me, all naked, the most beautiful girl in the world—maybe the most broken now too.

Washed myself quickly. There was death on me too.

Turned off the water, wrapped a towel around her shoulders and one around my waist before I dried her like you might a little kid.

Found her a T-shirt of mine and tugged it on over her head. Pulled on some sweatpants myself and then I moved her over towards the bed.

Made me feel nervous because I knew what’s coming.

The bed was where she’d feel like we were alone and I knew that’s where it’d happen.

I laid down first, pulled her with me. She folded like an envelope into my chest and I counted to three in my mind but she only made it to two before she broke like a dam and cried like she hadn’t let herself all night.

I kissed the top of her head a thousand times, held her as tight as I could.

“I’m so sorry, Parks,” I told her like it counted for anything. “I’m so sorry.”

23:42

Bridge

I ordered you a book on the etymology of 30,000 common British words because you’re a loser and I thought you’d like it.

It’ll be here tomorrow.

You’re welcome.

• • •