Page 71 of The Book Swap

In the morning Mum’s back in her overalls, carrying chairs from the dining room out into the garden, with Dad calmly receiving them from the door and placing them on the patio.

I help her lift the table, knowing there’s no way we’ll get the sofa out there.

“Help me push that,” she says, nodding toward it.

“Shall we do the underlay in here first?”

“Later.”

We lift the sofa back into the sitting room, followed by the chair and television. Before I can even wheel the table with the TV on it out of the way, she’s down by the corner of the room, tearing at the cream carpet.

“I found this under your bed,” Dad says, putting his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and handing me a small square envelope. “When Mum got at the carpet.”

Taking it, I turn it over. It says “Erin” on the front in the handwriting of a younger James. It’s still sealed. That’s Dad for you.

“Thanks.”

I take it inside, staring at it for a while before running my finger gently under where it’s sealed and taking the letter out. Scanning the words, I remember it all. Sprinting home so fast that I vomited on the path outside on my way to the front door. Finally, I was safe inside. I ran straight upstairs and wrote everything down in that letter.

Dear Nothing, it started.

I can’t believe despite our great love of The Perks of Being a Wallflower this is my first letter to you. I really hope it won’t be my last.

Even knowing the group of boys could be minutes behind me, I could only think about Erin. I wanted to apologize for what I’d done. To say the one thing I thought might make her feel better.

Sometimes, in the years after we stopped speaking, I wondered if I’d made up how close we were. If perhaps it was just me who felt it, but reading this letter makes everything clear. We had in-jokes. Nicknames. Moments.

Remember the day I told you that you and Bonnie had changed my life and I would do anything for you? Well I need you to hold that in your mind, while I say this next part, because it’s true, no matter how it may look.

How could she just walk away from it all without giving me a chance to explain? If not on the day, then at some point in the future. How has she made me feel like it’s the worst thing anyone ever did to her, even now? I’ve spent years rewinding to that moment, hating myself for what I did, but if she knew why, she might have understood. And she never asked. She made it all about her, despite knowing what I was going through. We could have fought the bullies together, but instead she left. She left because she didn’t want to experience what I was experiencing.

I go back downstairs and find Dad sitting at the dining room table as though it’s always been out in the garden. He’s staring at the apple tree, deep in thought.

“Dad, if you need a break from all this. A long one—”

“I don’t need a break. You know, you and Elliot used to love climbing that tree.” He points toward the apple tree.

“I remember.”

“I don’t know when it stopped. One day you were just inside playing video games or watching telly and that was it...you never climbed it again.”

“I guess that’s called aging.”

He sighs. “Happens so fast. When El was born, a midwife told me to enjoy it. That ‘the days are long, but the years are short.’ I’ve never forgotten that.”

“And now, here you are, with a DJ wanting you on tour. Your best years could still be ahead of you, Dad.”

He turns to look at me, frowning. “You make it sound like I was complaining. It’s the opposite. I miss it. I miss it all.”

I stare at the tree with him, trying to think how to word it.

“I want you to go on the tour. You deserve it. To live your best life. To fulfil your dreams.”

“I am.”

“If we go by the advice you gave me on the phone, you’re not. You’re taking the straightforward option, but not necessarily the right one.”

Dad lifts his head as the sun comes out from a cloud, shining down on us to the backing track of the tearing of carpet behind us.

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