Heather

I am awkward. I am quiet. I am the girl from high school, only you can’t remember how my voice sounded or what my surname is.
I stand at the entrance to the rugby club. It looks duller than it used to. When we were young, my sister and I played hide and seek in amongst the locals. At least she would. I was more inclined to hide beneath tables and lock myself in toilet cubicles. I haven’t seen my sister since she put my house on the market and sent me away. I had been so preoccupied thinking about our reunion, I hadn’t considered how many people she’d invited. People that knew me; people that didn’t- I wasn’t sure what group was going to be worse.
The silver banner on the door reads CONGRATULATIONS! I watch it melt as the building ignites in flames that dance to the chime of pouring gasoline. The people inside scream along with my sister who’s white gown is splattered in ebony ash. I am safe where I stand, while the trees snigger, encouraging the fire to continue.
Suddenly the club doesn’t look so boring anymore. So cautiously, I walk inside, hoping to blend in like a smudged sketch. The songs playing are no longer romantic ballads and the cake has now been devoured. Day drinkers holler 90’s club classics, whilst being told they should probably head home. Nobody notices me. I wasn’t invited to the ceremony. My sister didn’t want to put me under any unnecessary strain.
I velcro myself to the walls, trying to manoeuver my way around the room without making eye contact. I get to a window and rest my cheek on the cool glass. It chills my paranoid skin. Children play hopscotch across invisible squares, laughing at nothing. I am nothing. The trees stand tall making barricades, protecting them from the august sunshine. The branches are ladders that I try my best to ignore.
“Heather! My love! When did you arrive? I was just teaching your Uncle Stuart my best moves.” She jiggled her ass cheeks in front of my eyes, reminding me how ashamed I am to call the woman my mother. She smells of toffee and lavender.
“Where’s Maggy?” I ask the floor, hoping my mother will answer.
“Yes Darling, she’s in the garden with Christoph... Stuart! Stuart! You’re doing it wrong! Let me show you.” She scurries over to a man on the dancefloor, wearing opaque black glasses, flicking a stick from side to side. They are surrounded by an intoxicated crowd who smelt of Strongbow and Jägermeister.
I find the club’s exit, where I descend the stairs onto freshly watered grass. I stand for a while trying to recognise the faces of people talking. They hold champagne flutes and branded pint glasses with pride. I see my sister hovering next to three men wearing tuxedos. I want to walk over but the soles of my shoes have turned to concrete. They do that often. I take them off and nestle my toes in amongst the blades of grass.
“Heather! You made it!” My sister runs towards me, picking up her floor length gown with her freshly manicured fingers. ‘How are you doing?’ she asks. She rubs my shoulder like she’s stroking a vase.
‘Fine…’ I say, although it comes out like a whisper.
“I’m Glad. Look, if I introduce you to a couple of people, will you be okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead she takes my hand and drags me over to the bench where she was standing earlier. “Daisy, this is Christoph. Christoph… My sister.”
Christoph stands just as tall as the trees, with blonde hair and big shoulders. He nods at me instead of thrusting his open hand in my direction. This means he knows.  ‘And these are Chris’ best men: David and JP.” David has a jelly baby figure with an overgrown beard. JP is better looking and, quite obviously, his mother’s favourite, with innocent eyes. They say hello and I think the worst is over, but David sticks his sweaty sausage fingers out towards my chest. I swallow the shards of glass in my saliva and slowly move my quivering hand towards his. The thought of him squeezing it makes me feel claustrophobic, but I try my hardest not to show it. This is Maggy’s day. I can’t ruin it. Not again.
But instead of shaking my hand, David does something worse. He takes it, and lifts the back towards his mouth.
“Enchante” he says, and I can see Christoph wince from the corner of my eye. I try to stay calm but my heart beats faster to the sound of the rustling leaves above me. His dry lips touch my hand. They suck all the moisture from my skin; draining the life from my body. I see my reflection in the club window. I have become too frail to stand; bones protruding from places they shouldn’t. I drop to the ground because it’s the only thing I trust to catch me.
“Just leave her. Don’t take it personally David she has…. Problems.” Christoph asks if he should get Mother but Maggy shoots him a look that could melt him. “Do you want this to become a scene Chris? Because it will do if Mother is called. Just leave her. She just needs some space.”
“But she looks so helpless, bless her.” David pouts. The grass tickles my nose, teasing me like a sibling. “Here why don’t I give you a hand, Love? Let me help you up. You need a drink? I can get you something?”
There are fingers on my waist; digging into my ribs; squeezing my body like a wet sponge. He is dirty and heavy and he will kill me, all at once. I’m suddenly aware of how unsafe the ground is. People will get closer- they’ll tread on me, on my legs so I can’t walk and on my arms so I can’t hail a cab home. I can never leave. I must leave.
“What the…! She just slapped me!” David yelps.
“I told you not to touch her!” says Maggy. She knows she can’t save me.
My bare feet run towards the only place I feel safe. The doctors will scold me. My therapist will coax me down eventually. But for now, I trust nobody other than the leaves and the songs they sing. The branches are my friends. They don’t ask me questions. They don’t touch me, I touch them. I climb higher and higher. My toes are grazed with dirt and blood but I am safe.
If I climb even higher, I’ll see the ants beneath me crying my name.
“Daisy my love, won’t you come down. No one will hurt you.” The concern in my mother’s voice is commendable, but I don’t want to see her, so I stay where I am and stroke the brittle layers of bark around me. The leaves are prickly on the outside but full of life on the inside. We are the same. The sun creeps through the canopy, keeping me warm in a world of ice and isolation.
I am home. I am safe. I am the girl you could never find at recess because I climb trees to avoid conversation.