Page 33 of Oar Than Friends

‘Oh.’ I looked down at my knees, crossing one over the other, and praying no one noticed the outburst I’d just had. Or that I’d used his name, or one of his names.

Come to think of it, I didn’t know what to call him, so it was probably wiser to stay silent in future.

But Imogen didn’t seem to have noticed because she was already quizzing Norris.

‘What’s he like? I heard he has an awful temper.’

Norris simply chuckled, and looked at Fletcher who grinned.

‘Nah, he’s a decent guy. Always gets dumped with a lot of unfair shit, but I’m on the British squad with him and he’s a good crewmate.’

His reply did nothing to help my confusion, but Imogen harrumphed, making Fletcher laugh just as the train began slowing and he stood up. ‘We’re home. I have to dash. Good to meet you ladies. Asters, good luck Saturday.’

‘We won’t be seeing you this afternoon?’

Norris shook his head, the rest of us joining as he stood up. Fletcher was already by the carriage doors waiting for them to open as soon as we stopped moving. ‘We don’t normally train together; the men’s and women’s crews only train together on the weekends. But the three of us had a session out with your coach this morning.’

‘Oh.’ I threaded my arms through my backpack and hitched it onto my shoulders. ‘See you at the weekend then. Thanks for the insight.’

The five of us joined the small group stepping off the train; and Norris and Tubbs took off in the directionFletcher had disappeared. Thankfully the rain had already stopped in Cambridge so we weren’t subjected to another soaking, and the three of us headed back to our classes.

‘Clive? No. Brad? No. Humphrey Bogart? No.’

I looked down at him. My guy. His waxy, lifeless body with a tiny red heart tattooed over his own heart. We’d been in here an hour, and my belly was still churning from the smell; the pungent mix of chemicals and rotting. Two guys had already thrown up, but the balm we’d had to wipe under our noses was stopping me from needing to vomit just yet. I glanced over to Imogen who seemed to be whispering quietly, taking me back to the beautiful February day we’d scattered Jake’s ashes in the Sound.

Professor Hull, leading our anatomy and physiology module, had instructed us to absorb the room, understand death, show care and respect to each of the cadavers for we wouldn’t make it through school without them. We’d get used to it, she said. If we didn’t, we’d have bigger problems. By the end of the year your cadaver will be your best friend.

Wasn’t quite sure I agreed on her last point.

What did I know about him already? Very little actually. The form on the clipboard said he’d died of a heart attack, late fifties. A Cambridge lifer, he’d donated his body to the university because he believed in the pursuit of knowledge and science. Apparently, I assumed anyway. Why else would you donate your body to be practised upon?

‘Maybe I’ll call you Galileo. Leo for short.’ I placed my hand on the sheet covering him, pulling it up a little, then stopped myself. He couldn’t feel the cold. ‘I’ll take care ofyou. Hopefully you’re having a ball in heaven. I guess you’re there, no one going to hell would have bothered donating their body.’

Leo didn’t confirm or deny his afterlife status.

‘I’m Kate. I’m from the United States. I’m studying medicine, obviously.’ I chuckled, quietly, lest Professor Hull think I was being disrespectful. ‘I’ve been here nearly two weeks now. Jet lag is gone, thank God. I’m on the rowing squad, and I’m coxing Blondie at the weekend, which I’m super pumped for. Now I need to work extra hard to keep my place so I can be part of history when we beat Oxford … did you ever row for Cambridge? I’ve been wondering what it’s like to be part of the race.’

I stared down at Leo, unsure why, or what I was waiting for. It was strange talking to someone who couldn’t talk back, it was almost a type of one-way therapy but without the feeling you were talking to yourself. Even though you were.

Thinking about it now, I realized I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t tell a soul.

I could tell him about Oz. About the night I’d met him, because up to this point I’d confided in no one. The first week had been so busy that I’d never got around to telling Hannah and Imogen about him. I was about to, but that was right as Imogen started talking and I found out who he really was, making me thankful I hadn’t.

Oz would be a very brief period of my life no one else need know about.

Perhaps Leo would become my new best friend seeing as he was the only person I could confide in about the three unreplied-to messages burning a hole in the bottomof my backpack and what I was supposed to do about them.

My very confused brain began throbbing again. Maybe Leo was my only hope in solving the conundrum.

I opened my mouth just as a bell rang.

‘Okay, class done. See you all again on Friday. No vomiting this time. Get your cadaver names down on your clipboard, and leave it in the box by the door,’ Professor Hull called out, her voice bouncing off the hard, white Metro-tiled walls.

I was writing out Leo’s name when I was yanked hard to the right. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. We need fresh air. Hannah was right, it’s creepy in here.’

I chuckled. ‘You’re okay, be thankful you won’t be forever known as Pukey Pukerson. Anyway, I saw you chatting away. What did you name yours?’

‘Mr Peppermint,’ she whispered as we dropped our clipboards in the box and walked out to the lockers we’d left our belongings in.

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