Part V: bath sheets, lightning bolts
This is the 5th part in a series. Read the rest: I | II | III | IV
I’ve had an ethical dilemma about my Willa series which is why so much time has passed between Parts IV and V. After Part IV, I fielded some questions about her from a few friends who read the blog. I felt uncomfortable answering them because I’ve not been completely honest about this. Willa did give me permission to use her life story for fiction practice, but she doesn’t know I’m publishing it on the internet. She doesn’t even know about this blog. I mean, no one knows about it except for like, 10 of my friends — maybe 4 of whom actually read it. I didn’t think it was a big deal because my intentions are pure. I’m not publishing it for an audience, I’m publishing it because the act of doing so is making me write. Every post is a promise I keep to myself. But when those questions were asked I felt guilty. Even though SOTM is practically invisible it’s still a public space. Is it right to share this story here? I decided the answer was no, so I stopped for a while to ease my conscience. Willa is oblivious to all this.
When Willa’s story began I thought it would be a classic high school love triangle with an intriguing little paranormal twist that I could play up to. In the months since I’ve last written it’s become something else, and so my performance of ethical concern/procrastination has been quelled by the unshakable feeling that this might be a real chance to fulfil my lifelong dream of finishing a story — if I just allow myself to follow the thread. I think I owe it to myself to try. Does that make me a bad person? Maybe, but I think Willa will forgive me. Either that or she’ll never find out.
On with the story.
Willa and Ben have been together all summer. When she told me she’d decided to keep dating him even though she was convinced his feelings weren’t real, her explanation was: “since he believes they’re real and I’ve been obsessed with him so long it’s easy to pretend, why shouldn’t I? It’s better to have a boyfriend than not. I’ve lost Charli, it’s nice to have someone.”
As the weeks passed and they spent more time together: hanging at the mall, watching TV, meeting each other’s parents, sharing playlists, favourite movies, hopes, dreams and bodily fluids (the guilt the guilt), the sense of performance faded. I don’t want to say Willa ‘fell in love’ because that’s not accurate. It’s more like she let reality bleed into the shape of her fantasy. She ignored where the edges didn’t match up. Aside from that odd tugging sensation in her chest when they were together, things were good. “And anyway,” she told me, “the whole emotional knot thing is in my head right? I’m just a little bit psycho.”
She got a job at a department store in the city which made me nostalgic because I had a similar job at the store next door when I was her age, in the bridal registry. I can still remember walking through the empty floors in the morning before the store opened. It’s silly, but I’ve always got a kick out of things like that — seeing things other people don’t get to see, knowing where locked doors lead (even if it’s just a windowless break room). Willa seemed to like her new job. She was assigned to the manchester department and spent her days perfecting the art of folding towels and talking to strangers about thread counts. One day, she approached a customer looking at bath sheets to ask if she needed help. The woman turned with a smile and Willa felt a jolt of recognition.
Back in late November, her last official school engagement had been the school leavers’ prize giving. Her parents made her go even though she wasn’t receiving anything, insisting she needed to support her classmates and celebrate the end of an era. Willa felt she could at least get on board with the second part. The school auditorium’s stage was lined with seats for the prizewinners. In the front row sat the Principal, four Heads of House and another woman Willa didn’t recognise. During his welcome, the principal introduced her as Samantha Gad, a ‘distinguished alumni’ of the school and visiting scholar from a university in the UK that Willa instantly forgot the name of. She was there to hand out the prizes.
Willa watched Samantha with a kind of bored attention. There was something about her that was both compelling and out of place — she didn’t look like an archetypal scholar. Willa actually thought she looked like a bit of a rascal. In fact, she spent most of her time smiling like she was trying hard not to laugh at some secret joke and Willa had a sudden surge of longing to be in on it. Samantha’s head snapped up at that moment and their eyes met. It felt like a flash of lightning. Willa flushed and tried to look away but couldn’t, it was as if she were pinned by Samantha’s gaze. Willa sensed the other woman was curious, even friendly. After a moment or two Samantha looked away and Willa felt the breath rush into her lungs like she’d resurfaced after a long time underwater.
A few weeks later, there was Samantha Gad again, standing there explaining why she wanted to buy her mum towels for Christmas.
“I know it’s such a boring gift but I’ve been staying with the parental unit and their towels are threadbare…” She was saying, until something about Willa’s expression made her trail off.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes sorry, but um, this is going to sound weird… I think I saw you at my school prize giving?”
That’s how Willa met Sam. It was another week before they became more to each other than a shop assistant and a customer. Sam bought a set of 4 teal bath sheets that day and returned them 10 days later. They were too boring, after all.
“I had a flash back of the time Dad bought Mum a new dinner set for Christmas and she threw one of the plates at the wall.” Sam explained. “So I decided a practical gift was maybe not the safest choice.”
When they smiled at each other Willa said it felt like some kind of cosmic energy transfer was occurring. The feeling must have been mutual because Sam suggested they go for coffee. Willa told me she’d never met anyone who listened to her like Sam did that day. Rude. She said it was like Sam’s entire being was absorbed by every word she said.
“Honestly she made me feel like the most interesting person in the world.”
I have a second cousin with this ability and I’ve always been jealous of him. His power to pay such rapt and sincere attention has made him something of a celebrity in our family. I think I’m way too self-involved to pull it off. It’s all a bit weird, right? I guess Sam and Willa were just twin souls destined to meet, but I haven’t been able to shake my suspicion about her motives. I appreciate the hypocrisy here — I also met Willa in random circumstances and now I’m exploiting her for personal gain. Our main character does have a bad habit of befriending untrustworthy older women in public places, right?
Sam’s in her late twenties. Bisexual. A bit masc. Deeply unserious. Willa had never met anyone like her. They had a lot in common, from a love for Olivia Dean’s Man I Need and Heated Rivalry to their thoughts on life after death and politics. Yes I think she asked Sam some of the questions, which is interesting in itself. Willa said she hadn’t laughed that much with anyone since her falling out with Charli. I guess the new friendship filled the void. They began meeting every day after work — sometimes at a bar for a drink or two, sometimes at Fitzroy Gardens for a walk along the manicured paths. If this was a love affair it could have been classified as a whirlwind, but it wasn’t sexual, or at least, that’s what Willa told me. Have you ever been platonically fascinated by someone? Is that even possible?
Naturally, Willa confided in Sam about Ben. She told her the whole story including the moment in English class that started their ‘irl’ era as a couple. When she finished Sam said,
“Did you ever try to undo the knot in your chest?”
“What?”
“The knot you tied with his emotions — I mean you must be able to untie it the same way? With your creepy phantom hands? Even if it’s all in your head.”
Willa was a little dumbfounded, not just because it was such a simple and obvious idea, but because of the casual way Sam had both accepted her batshit story and become a collaborator in it.
“To be clear, I definitely think you’re insane.” Sam added with a grin. “But I like that about you.”
Willa DMed me about the idea later that night.
What if it works and he doesn’t like me anymore?
Then he’s not worth worrying about
I like having a boyfriend
Do you?
I mean what’s not to like?
Sweet summer child, you’re only 18 and it’s not like he’s the only living boy in New York
… what
Sorry, that’s my favourite Simon and Garfunkel song.
I just mean there’s plenty more 🐠 in the 🌊
you’re so weird
Says the girl who ties knots with peoples emotions
—-
Stay tuned for Part VI. Is Willa going to test out Sam’s idea and get her heartbroken? Is that what Sam wants?