Keeping it Together Read online

  "Shit," Alisha hissed. "You're right, you should have said. Not that it changes anything, really. We're still stuck in the same place."

  "I know," Sian said, feeling utterly wretched. "I wish I could change what happened, but I can't."

  "No," she agreed. "You can't. Just do me a favour, yeah? Don't screw up your life because you're afraid they'll fall apart if you do."

  "But if he died because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself."

  "It wouldn't be because of you. It'd be because of him. A person either has to adapt or die."

  Sian frowned. She had never thought Alisha cold before. "It's my dad, not some stranger I can just wipe my hands of."

  "I know that, but he's holding you back. He's—"

  Sian stood up. She didn't want to hear any more of this. "You think I don't know that? God, I know it more than ever now, but..."

  "But you're going to let it happen anyway."

  "Yes," Sian said. "Because I have to."

  Twelve

  Sian sipped at her milkshake, looking at the clock by the door and wondering where on earth Tilly had gotten to. They were supposed to meet at eleven, and it was getting on for half past.

  The bell above the door jingled as it was pushed open. Sian stared. The woman walking through the door was not Tilly but Alisha. Alisha went straight to the counter to order, but stopped short as she caught sight of Sian.

  For a moment Sian thought Alisha was going to turn away and pretend she hadn't seen her, but after a few seconds Alisha strode towards the table. "Fancy seeing you here," Alisha said.

  Sian knew then what had happened to Tilly. Maybe Tilly thought she'd be grateful for a setup, but she wasn't. Tilly was going to get a piece of her mind when she next saw her.

  "Can I sit here?" Alisha asked. There were plenty of empty tables around them, but Sian nodded anyway, unable to quash the blossom of hope flowering in her chest.

  Alisha pulled out the chair and sat down, tipping it back onto two legs and hanging there like she hadn't a care in the world. Her hair had been cut in the fortnight since Sian had seen her last, and the tips were dyed green this time.

  Sian struggled to hide her smile, the glare cracking under the pressure of Alisha's amused gaze. "Did you want something?" Sian asked eventually. Alisha's presence here was too coincidental. She had to be in on it, whatever 'it' was.

  "Besides a good cup of coffee?" Alisha joked as a cup was pushed in front of her. The waitress smiled and retreated back to the counter.

  "Yes, besides that."

  "Well, I've had some time to think recently, what with Mac being unable to play for a while and band practice out the window. And I sort of thought, you know, we never really tried, did we?"

  "What?"

  "Well, I mean, I just think there's more we could do here. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to be rid of you, but I hate dating sites, so..." She gave a weak grin, and despite the nonchalant tone of voice, Sian realised that to Alisha, this was laying her heart out on the line.

  "But what can we do?" Sian said, looking away into the frothy remains of her milkshake.

  Shaking her choppy fringe out of her eyes, Alisha seemed thoughtful for a moment before leaning forward and propping her chin on her hands. "What if I just talk to them?"

  Sian blinked, unsure if she was hearing right. "Talk to them?" she reiterated slowly.

  "Yeah. I mean, your parents hate me, right? But they've never even met me."

  "Trust me. They definitely wouldn't approve of you after meeting you."

  "So who says they have to meet the real me?"

  "I really don't think that's a good idea."

  "But worth a try?"

  Sian thought about it for a moment, then sighed. "Maybe," she said. "But I don't know. I don't think they'd take it well. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing I want more than to be with you, but the situation is the same as it was three weeks ago, and I don't think that's going to change any time soon."

  "But what else can we do?" Alisha asked, reaching across the table to clasp Sian's hand in her own.

  Sian bit her lip. The truth was, she just didn't know.

  *~*~*

  Alisha stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked ridiculous. The dye was gone from her hair, which was swept back in a neat, white Alice band. There was none of the heavy eyeliner she usually wore, just a base layer of mascara and a natural eye shadow. She was dressed in a flowing, green knee-length skirt that she'd bought from a charity shop to wear to her grandma's eightieth birthday party, and a short sleeved black blouse she'd only worn to job interviews.

  She briefly considered taking a photograph for her mum. She was always complaining that Alisha dressed too masculine, despite the fact that almost everything Alisha wore showed off her curves in ways that men's clothing never would.

  At the door she nearly pulled on her Converse, which would have gone well with the skirt, but which were, really, too informal for this occasion. Sighing, she went into the bedroom and dug through the wardrobe until she found a pair of black dolly shoes she hadn't worn in years.

  Bolan stared at her from his seat on the kitchen counter, not daring to come any closer. He meowed loudly, as if asking where his friend had gone and who this strange woman in the neat skirt and blouse was.

  Alisha paused, and took in a deep breath. They'd talked about this, several times now. Sian hadn't seemed thrilled by the idea, but the answer Alisha had gotten over the phone this morning had been a yes, albeit tentative. It would be okay, she assured herself. Still, she knew if she fucked this up that would be it for them, game over.

  "Don't worry, baby," Alisha cooed to Bolan as she turned the door handle. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

  She locked the door behind her and headed downstairs towards the waiting taxi.

  *~*~*

  Sian was in the kitchen, chopping onions and carrots for dinner, when the doorbell rang.

  "Be a love and get that, would you?" her mother asked, peeling potatoes at the sink.

  Sian wiped her hands on her jeans and headed out into the hallway to answer it. Usually they didn't have callers this late, so it was probably someone selling something—Jehovah's Witnesses or the KleenEze guy.

  When she opened the door, her face went slack with shock. "I didn't think you meant today," she hissed at Alisha, who stood on the doorstep dressed like she was about to go to church.

  Alisha's smile faltered. "I thought we agreed?"

  "We agreed it was an idea, we didn't actually plan anything. Except, apparently, you did."

  Alisha grinned apologetically and held out a bunch of yellow roses. In her other hand was a second bunch of flowers, which Sian could only assume were for her mother. "Just tell your mother you'll have one more for dinner? Look, just trust me, I won't do or say anything stupid, and if it seems to be too much, I'll leave, okay?"

  Sian was doubtful. If there was one thing her parents hated, it was uninvited guests popping round at mealtime.

  But she couldn't leave Alisha standing there on the doorstep, not when she'd gone to so much effort and looked so... not nice, exactly, Sian much preferred the way she usually looked, all tight dark clothes, heavy boots and eyeliner. She didn't even smell like herself. There was hardly a hint of cigarette smoke; instead she smelled like mint and a light, fragrant perfume.

  "I'll ask," she said. "Wait there." She placed the flowers on the bureau as she passed, sidling into the kitchen and trying an innocent, slightly regretful expression. "Uhm, Mum," she said, waiting until her mother turned to face her before continuing. "I kinda forgot I invited a friend over for dinner tonight. Is it okay if she joins us?"

  Her mother's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You never invite friends over. Except Tilly, but you don't need to ask for her."

  "No, it's..." She took a deep breath. "It's Alisha," she said, biting her lip and trying not to break away from her mother's gaze.

  The colour seemed to drain from her mother's expression. "You'd brin
g that woman here after what happened with your father? Are you mad or just stupid? Do you want him to have another heart attack?"

  "No!" Sian said. "But she's really made an effort, Mum. She wants to meet you, and I swear, if Dad gets funny, she'll leave. Please, just talk to her. She doesn't have to stay. Just talk to her."

  "Well, I don't understand what you expect to gain from it." Her mother threw the peeler she'd been clutching into the sink with a clatter before storming out of the kitchen.

  Sian took another deep breath before following her, stopping short at the door. Her mother stood on the step, a bunch of white roses in her hands. She wasn't shouting, which was a good sign.

  "I understand," Alisha was saying. "I know it's awful of me to drop by like this, but the thing is, I miss your daughter something crazy, and I wanted... Well, I guess I wanted to show you and your husband that I'm not what you think I am. That I really care about Sian."

  Sian's mother shook her head, but there was sympathy in her eyes. "I understand you think—"

  "No, I know," Alisha said, standing firm. "I know the difference between real love and the kind that only pretends to be love, and trust me, this is real. This I'm willing to fight for. I'd rather I wasn't fighting you, though."

  Sian stood dumbfounded as her mother nodded. "I see. Well, I suppose you'd better come in, then. But I'm warning you now, if my husband takes offence to a single thing, you'll be out on your ear."

  Alisha nodded solemnly. "Of course. The last thing I want is to upset him."

  "You'll have to be the one to tell him because I'm not doing it." There was a look of defeat in her mother's eyes as she headed back through into the kitchen.

  Alisha crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her. She smiled and bent to kiss Sian lightly on the cheek. "I told you this would work."

  "We don't know that it will, yet. Just because you're in doesn't mean you're staying. Wait here. I have to tell my dad you're here."

  "Good luck," Alisha hissed after her as Sian crept up the stairs towards the office.

  She found her dad sitting at the desk, playing solitaire on the computer.

  "Daddy?" she said, entering.

  He sighed. "What do you want? You only call me 'Daddy' when you want something."

  "You're right," she said, stopping by the desk. "I do want something. And you're not going to like it."

  "No," he said wearily. "I don't suppose I will. What is it, then?"

  "If you ask me to, I'll send her away," Sian started, watching as her father's eyes narrowed. "But please, don't ask me to."

  "Just spit it out."

  So she did. "Alisha's here. She wants to stay for dinner. Please, don't get upset," she added as his face clouded over. "She just wants to talk things through, and that's a good thing, right?"

  "I won't have—"

  "Wait. Just let me speak," she said, cutting across him in a way she normally wouldn't have dared. "Just listen, and then you can say whatever you want."

  His jaw clenched, but after a moment, he nodded.

  "Thank you," she said. "You know, I think the mistake I made was lying to you. I think that not telling you where I was going, who I was going with, that was the problem. Not Alisha... It was easy for you to blame her for everything I was doing because to you, it seemed like that was the thing that had changed. But it wasn't. The truth was I hadn't changed at all. I've been lying to you about where I was going for over a year now, since I turned eighteen. I don't usually drink. I don't even like it that much. But I've been going to bars every month or two since my eighteenth birthday."

  "Am I allowed to speak yet?" he asked, the rumble of thunder in his voice.

  "In a minute. I'm sorry I lied to you, but you don't make it easy to tell the truth sometimes. I was always so scared of what you'd think, what you'd say, but I was wrong to lie to you. I'm not going to do that anymore. So here's the truth: I love Alisha. Not seeing her, it's the worst thing in the world. I feel like... like I'm just lots of little broken pieces, and it's a daily struggle to hold myself together. These last few weeks? They're the most unhappy I've ever been. But I've been afraid of hurting you. I don't want to hurt you, Daddy. I know you just want to protect me, but you're killing me."

  "A year?" he asked. "This has been going on for a whole year?"

  "Not Alisha," she said quickly. "I only met her a couple of months ago. But everything else? Yes."

  He shook his head slowly, as if he wasn't quite able to believe it. "I think," he said, his voice rough, "I need to be alone for a minute."

  Silently, she left the room, clicking the door closed behind her. Her heart was beating at a wicked pace in her chest. She stood by the door, listening for any sounds of distress from inside. She wanted to give her father the space he needed, but if he had another heart attack, she needed to be close.

  After a few minutes, the door opened. "I want to talk to your mother," he said and closed the door again without another word.

  Sian found her mother in the kitchen with Alisha, who had taken over Sian's vegetable chopping duties. They both looked up as she entered.

  "He wants to talk to you," Sian said, looking at her mother before taking the spoon from her hand to continue stirring the stock.

  "No good?" Alisha asked once Sian's mother left the room.

  Sian shook her head. "I don't think so."

  "At least we know we tried," Alisha said, shrugging, trying to make up for the waver in her voice.

  They had almost finished making dinner themselves by the time Sian's mother returned. Her face was pale, and she looked as though she'd been crying.

  "Is he okay?" Sian asked, nerves jumping.

  Her mother nodded. "He's fine," she said. "Alisha can stay for dinner."

  She didn't stay in the kitchen. Instead, she left them to it, each of them staring at each other in shock.

  "Did she just say...?" Sian stared at the doorway where her mother had been minutes before.

  "She did," Alisha said, breaking into a grin. "I can stay."

  Suddenly, everything seemed brighter, all the lights turning on inside her, dispelling the gloom that had settled there. She smiled and stepped forward, arms wrapping around Alisha's waist. Sian pulled her close, their lips meeting, before the moment was broken by the splash and hiss of boiling water bubbling over onto the hob. Laughing, Sian quickly turned down the heat.

  *~*~*

  Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Her father did a lot of glaring, and Sian could tell he was holding his tongue for much of the time. The rest of it was spent asking Alisha probing questions about her education, her job, her family, her personal life. It seemed he was finally giving Alisha a chance, but not without limits.

  However, there was nothing he could fault her on. Divorced parents, but nothing unusual. Her mother was a respectable home designer in California, her father an accountant in London, professions that even he had to approve of. She skipped over the details about her music, using retail as her main job, which, whilst lacking in ambition, didn't provide much for her father to sneer at.

  She was the perfect guest—polite, charming, almost demure. She asked questions back, enquiring about their jobs and their backgrounds, but without prying into anything.

  After dinner, they sat drinking coffee in the living room—except Sian's dad, who had, rather unwillingly, substituted all his coffee for green tea. The conversation had, embarrassingly, turned to Sian's childhood. Alisha seemed to genuinely enjoy hearing about the time Sian had wanted to be a ballet dancer and had walked on her tiptoes for a month.

  "Her teachers despaired of her." Her mother laughed. "Of course, then she changed her mind about the dancing and wanted to be a writer instead. It was such a relief."

  Alisha laughed. "I can imagine."

  "Do you not want kids, Alisha?" Sian's father asked, sounding as though he'd been sucking on a lemon as he said her name.

  Sian winced at the question; she'd have to apologise to Alisha later for
that one.

  Alisha, however, didn't seem offended or put off. She seemed to think about it for a moment before speaking. "I think," she said, "that children are best left until later in life. They need so much attention, and I think there's still so much to do in my own life before I really focus on someone else's."

  Sian's mother nodded. "That's very sensible," she said. "Isn't it, Ethan?"

  Unable to fault her response, he muttered an agreement.

  Half an hour later, Sian stood in the kitchen by herself, making more tea. Just three cups this time, as Alisha was leaving soon. She had a feeling she'd been ordered into the kitchen so her parents could talk to Alisha alone. Despite the success of the evening, she had the horrible feeling they were using Sian's absence to order Alisha to back off.

  She returned with the tea and a plate of rich tea biscuits and set them down on the coffee table. Alisha stood up and smiled at Sian's parents. "Well, I'd better be off," she said. "Thank you so much for having me, it really meant a lot... It's been lovely." She smiled, almost shyly.

  Sian saw her to the door and stood out on the driveway with her for a few moments, unwilling to say goodbye just yet, not knowing if this would be the last time she saw her. They kissed, too briefly for either of them, but with her parents mere feet away, Sian didn't dare do much more.

  Alisha stroked a lock of hair back from her face and smiled sadly. "I don't think I've actually said it to you before," she said, "but I love you."

  "I love you too," Sian returned. "I just hope…"

  "Me too," Alisha said, but she was smiling as she turned away toward the taxi idling at the kerb.

  *~*~*

  Sian sat in the armchair that had only recently been vacated by Alisha, a half-empty cup of tea in her hands. Her parents sat on the sofa, silent and thoughtful. If they wanted to make Sian burst with anticipation, they were going the right way about it.

  "She seems..." her mother started, beginning to trail off before finishing with, "okay."

  Her father grumbled. "This whole thing just doesn't seem right to me. You can't really expect us to just let—" He was cut off by a light touch to his knee, her mother settling her hand over it to calm him.