JANUARY 17, 1997
SINCE STARTING FIRST CLASS LAST SEPTEMBER, LIZ TOOK THE THREE O’CLOCK BUS home from school with me. However, two weeks had passed since we’d returned to school after Christmas break, and Lizzie still hadn’t returned.
I knew what that meant.
She was sick again.
After tormenting my mother for days to call Lizzie’s mother, Mam finally gave in last night. After spending half an hour on the phone with Catherine, Mam returned to my room to assure me that Lizzie hadn’t gone back to hospital, but that she was at home in bed with the flu.
Maybe she was, but none of it sat well with me, and I was losing patience fast.
By the time Mam left for work on Saturday morning, I had reached my limit. Sneaking into the kitchen was a doddle when Caoimhe was in charge because she spent most of her time with her tongue down the cretin’s throat.
Thankfully, she didn’t bring him inside too often when she babysat during the daytime, choosing to hang out in the garden instead.
Dialing the phone number that I learned off by heart at the age of seven, I held the receiver to my ear and listened to the shrill ringing sound.
“Hello?” a familiar voice came down the line.
“Hi, Mike, it’s me,” I replied, keeping my tone even. “Can I speak to Lizzie please?”
“Elizabeth’s still under the weather, Hugh,” her father replied in a friendly tone. Mike liked me a lot, and while the feeling wasn’t entirely reciprocated on my end, I always made an effort to be polite. “She’s upstairs resting.”
“Yeah, I know she’s sick,” I replied, careful not to let my emotions get the better of me when all I wanted to do was scream put her on the fucking phone. “But it’s really important that I speak to her. I wouldn’t ask you otherwise, Mike.”
“Hold on, son,” he said, giving in way quicker than I had anticipated. “I’ll go and see if she’s up for a chat.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
Several nail-biting minutes ticked in silence by before Lizzie came on the phone. “Hello?”
“Liz.” Gripping the phone like my life depended on it, I sagged against the wall and exhaled a relieved breath. “It’s me.”
It took her longer than usual to respond. “Hugh?”
“Yeah, Liz, it’s me.”
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?” I managed to ask, while my heart thundered in my chest. “I heard you have the flu?”
“The flu?” There was another long, exaggerated pause, before she mumbled, “Oh yeah.”
“You don’t sound good, Liz.”
“I’m okay…just…tired.” Several seconds ticked by before she added, “I have to go now, Hugh.”
“Liz, wait—”
The line went dead.
“Fuck!” Slamming the phone down on the receiver, I picked it back up and slammed it down another three times. “Goddammit to hell!”
“Hey!” Caoimhe snapped, coming through the front hall and into the kitchen. “What did the phone ever do to you?”
“Is your sister really okay?” I came right out and asked—demanded, truth be told. “I already know everything about her, Caoimhe, so bear that in mind before you lie to my face.”
“If you already know everything about Liz, then why are you asking me?”
I narrowed my eyes. “She doesn’t have the flu, does she?”
“No, she does,” my babysitter replied. “She genuinely does have the flu.” Stepping around me, she moved for the stove, where mam had left lunch on the hob. “But she’s having one of her episodes, too.”
“Oh.” My heart sank into my ass. “Is it a bad one?”
“No, not like before,” she replied quietly. “But she’s had her medication readjusted, so she’s super out of it at the moment.” She shrugged before offering me a reassuring smile. “She’ll come around again. Lizzie’s like a boomerang. She always comes back to herself.”
Yeah, but what if she didn’t?
I wanted to know more about her illness, but nobody would explain it to me in any great detail, and Lizzie seemed as in the dark about it as I was.
I decided to lie, while mentally plotting my next move. “I’m going over to Gibsie’s for a few hours.”
“Uh, hello?” Caoimhe pointed to the ceiling. “Gibsie’s upstairs with Claire.”
Dammit. “Then I’m heading to Robbie’s.”
“Do I look like I came down in the last shower, Hugh Biggs?” Caoimhe planted her hands on her hips and gave me a hard look. “Where are you really going?”
“To Robbie’s,” I doubled down and told her before heading outside to the garage. “Hand on my heart.”
“Hmm.” Caoimhe followed after me, looking wary. “And your Mam agreed to this?”
Well, she never disagreed, and I planned on capitalizing on the lack of parental warning.
“Yep.” Pushing my bike out of the garage, I hopped on and pedaled down the driveway. “I’ll see ya later.”
“Be safe on the roads, Hugh!” she called after me.
Pedaling like a demon through town, I cycled on the footpaths until they were replaced with country roads.
I wasn’t worried about the traffic whizzing past me or the potential of taking a wrong turn. I was a confident cyclist and had an excellent memory. I would find my way to her. If it was the last thing I did.
Forty-five minutes later, when I cycled past the signpost for Robin Hill Road, I felt a surge of pride that I had managed to find my way without any help. When I reached the gates of Old Hall House a few minutes later, the property looked just as impressive as I remembered.
There was a little pedestrian gate to the side of the driveway that her family never bothered to lock up, so I slipped through there with my bike before biking up the graveled driveway to the house.
Mike was coming out of the house when I reached the courtyard. “Hugh?” His brows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t know you were calling, son.”
“Yeah,” was all I decided to say, while I hopped off my bike and pushed it up the rest of the way. “I’ll head right in, if that’s okay?”
“Suit yourself, lad,” he replied with a shrug before heading off in the direction of the stables. “Elizabeth’s in her room.”
Letting myself inside, I made a beeline for the imposing staircase, feeling my heart race with every step I took. When I reached her bedroom door, I slipped inside without knocking.
“Liz?” When I saw her curled up in a ball on the middle of her bed, I swear I felt my heart crack. Moving straight for her, I didn’t stop until I was sitting on the mattress next to her. “Liz, are you awake?”
Nothing.
“Hey.” Reaching for her arm, I tried to rouse her as gently as I could. “It’s me.”
However, the moment I touched Liz, she went berserk, lashing out wildly with her arms and legs. She didn’t say a word throughout the whole ordeal. On the contrary, she was deathly silent in her hysteria, thrashing and kicking like her life depended on it.
“Jesus!” Startled, I staggered away from the bed and held my hands up. “Lizzie, it’s me, Hugh.”
When I spoke my name, something shifted inside her and she stopped moving altogether. “Hugh?”
“Yeah, Liz, I’m here,” I replied, wanting to go to her but unsure if that was what she wanted. “Roll over and look at me.”
With great effort, she did, and when her eyes met mine, I felt a stab in my chest. Because they didn’t look like her eyes. They weren’t pale blue anymore. They were almost black.
“Sorry,” she whispered, tucking her hands under her cheek. “I thought I was still in my dream.”
“That’s okay,” I replied, standing at the side of her bed. “Was it a bad dream?”
She shrugged. “They’re all bad.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “Too tired.”
“Can I sit?”
She nodded.
Feeling relieved, I slowly lowered myself onto the mattress. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Hmm.” Her eyelids fluttered. “I’m okay.”
She wasn’t.
She absolutely was not okay.
“What happened?”
“I was bad,” she mumbled.
“Bad?”
She nodded.
“I don’t understand.”
“Me either.” Her tongue poked out to wet her cracked lips. “I’m sick, Hugh.”
My heart sank. “You are?”
She tapped her temple. “In here.”
“No, you’re not.” Unable to stop myself, I reached down and stroked her cheek. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m sick.” Her hand shot out from under the covers and covered mine. “I’m not right in the head.”
“Don’t say that,” I pleaded, feeling panicked. “You’re my Lizzie. Same as you’ve always been.”
“The doctor gave me new medicine,” she whispered, keeping my hand on her cheek with her own hand. “I’m so tired all the time.”
“Did you tell them that?”
She nodded wearily. “It’s for the best.”
“Can I do anything to help you?”
“Stay,” she replied with a whimper. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t leave you, Liz,” I promised, resisting the urge to pull her into my arms. “I’m staying with you.”
“No matter what?”
“Yeah, Liz.” Stroking her cheek, I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “No matter what.”
“Will I be okay, Hugh?” she asked then, looking up at me like I had the answers. “Will I ever be normal like the other girls?”
Her words tore strips out of my heart and I felt an intense urge to soothe her fears. “Listen to me, because I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”
“You are?”
“Mm-hmm.” Reaching for her arms, I gently pulled her into a sitting position before smoothing her matted hair over her shoulders. “There’s no such thing as normal, Liz. It doesn’t exist. It’s just a word someone invented to make everyone behave the exact same way so they can tick the exact same boxes.”
“Really?”
Hell if I knew, but that was my theory on the matter. “It’s just a word,” I repeated, wiping a tear from her cheek. “And you are way too special to tick the ‘normal’ box.”
“I am?”
“Yep.” Nodding, I smiled at her. “You could never be described by a word, Liz, and especially not a boring one like normal. You know what else? I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I love that you don’t tick that boring box.”
Sniffling, she reached for my hand. “You wouldn’t change me if you could?”
“Nope.”
“How come?”
“Because then you wouldn’t be you,” I explained, wiping away another one of her tears. “And a world without Lizzie Young would be a travesty.”
“Travesty,” she repeated slowly, mulling over the word.
“Listen, I know you’re feeling tired, and it’s totally grand if you don’t want to, but would you like to take a walk outside with me?”
She stared at me for a long time before nodding her head. “Yeah, Hugh, I’d like that.”
