Blackbird. N.D. Gomes

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СКАЧАТЬ felt like a prison. She always felt trapped by the water because for her, she was stuck on an island.

      The phone rings and we all jump, each of us lost in our own memories of Olivia. My dad grabs the phone and roughly pushes it to his ear, ‘Hello? Hello? Olivia?’

      His face drops and he slowly hands the phone to me. ‘It’s Siobhan. Again.’

      ‘Tell her I’m not –’

      ‘Just talk to her, love,’ says my mum, taking the phone from my dad and placing it in my hand.

      I get up and walk to my bedroom, feeling the carpet soft under my feet. ‘Hello?’

      ‘Hey, it’s me. Any news?’

      ‘No, it’s still the same. No word from her.’

      There’s a cold silence between us, and I wonder whether she’s still there.

      I don’t know why, but I haven’t wanted to talk to her since Olivia went missing. Our conversations, our general interactions just seem so trivial now compared to what me and my family are going through.

      Siobhan and I hang out, we talk about boys, we listen to music, we watch her brother’s scary zombie films. Sometimes we pick up the other phone in her house and listen to his conversations with his girlfriend.

      We don’t do this.

      ‘Do you feel like coming over tonight? I can invite Andy if you want, that’ll cheer you up –’

      ‘I can’t tonight. We have a lot going on here. We’re waiting by the phone. We’re back out tomorrow, early. We’re going to go with the police on their search party.’

      ‘Oh . . . do you want me to come?’

      ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll speak to you later.’ I hang up before she responds.

      Is this what happened to Olivia and Emily? Are Siobhan and I growing up, and growing apart?

      Am I losing someone else in my life?

      Or am I pushing her away?

Chapter Three: 03.01.2016

      I wake at quarter past four in the morning. The darkness in my room is cold, and covers me like a thick and heavy blanket, suffocating me. I can’t breathe.

       Olivia.

      I push the covers off, the cool air stretching across my body, but I still feel hot. My feet touch the carpeted floor beneath my bed and I stagger to the window by my dresser. Unlocking the latch, I heave it up above my head. Ice cold air hits my face and I open my mouth gasping for more. Panting, I lean against the window frame and rub the sleep out of my eyes.

      Stars still shine bright in the sky above me, and a blinking light slowly moves across the dark canvas. A helicopter probably. Helicopters are common here, bringing oil-rig workers to and from the mainland. My dad works as an aviation engineer for Novotel Helicopters and knew the route well. He’ll be gone for weeks, working offshore, then back as if he’ll never left. His shifts are long, but he’ll always try to be there for birthdays, Christmases, even Parents’ Evenings.

      He’ll be home this week though. He won’t go in. He’ll want to be here when Olivia comes home. She is coming home.

      Suddenly I’m freezing. The cold air becomes too icy, too dark, too suffocating. I grab the edge of the window and pull down, but it sticks. I squeeze tight with my fingers and pull harder. My fingers slip and I wince as I feel my thumbnail bend back. I start clawing at the window, screaming, warm tears stabbing my eyes. It won’t close. Why am I crying?

      I can’t breathe.

       Olivia.

       Where are you?

      My door bursts open and my dad is standing in the doorway. The hallway light shines from behind him, and it hurts my eyes. I shield them with my hand.

      I feel his hands around my bare shoulders. ‘Alex, are you OK? What’s going on?’

      I’m still crying.

      ‘I don’t know . . . I can’t . . . I can’t close my window. I’m so cold!’

      He reaches up and easily slides it down to meet the ledge. Suddenly it’s so quiet. I feel stupid.

      I wipe the tears from my eyes, and blink them open. I’ve already adjusted to the light. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I over-reacted.’

      He kneels down and sits beside me, both of our backs against the window ledge. I put my hands in my lap and interweave my fingers. I’m wearing blue pyjama bottoms with white polka dots, and a pale pink vest.

      We sit for a while in silence, neither of us saying a word. Finally, I look up to meet his eyes. He’s staring straight ahead at the wall beside my bed. ‘Has she called?’ I ask him quietly, afraid of his answer.

      He shakes his head.

      ‘Dad?’

      He doesn’t say anything.

      ‘Dad?’

      ‘Yeah?’

      ‘I want to go looking for her today. I want to join the search team.’ I wait for him to say no, to tell me I’m too young, too inexperienced for this kind of situation. If this is what it is. But he doesn’t.

      ‘OK.’

      He gets up and walks out of my room, closing the door halfway behind him. Darkness seeps in again, but I don’t care. I don’t mind the darkness now. Because I know in only a few hours it will be gone, stamped out by the first rays of sunrise.

      We’ll find her today.

      We need to.

      By the time I’ve showered and changed, it’s almost six. I hurry down the stairs and find my dad dressed with his shoes on already. His thick winter coat sits on the kitchen counter next to mine.

      ‘Do you want breakfast before we go?’

      I shake my head. He doesn’t argue. He hands me my coat and slides into his. We walk past the stairs and he glances up.

      ‘Is Mum coming?’

      ‘No, she’s going to wait here in case . . . she calls.’ He doesn’t sound convinced that she will.

      ‘She will call, right?’ I ask.

      He doesn’t meet my eyes. ‘Yes. She’ll call.’

      I almost ask him to promise, but I don’t.

      We lock the house, leaving a spare key under the fake pot plant where Olivia knows to look, in case she’s lost her key, and get into the car.

      There СКАЧАТЬ