After rubbing my eyes, I reread the last sentence. My heart is hammering inside my chest. All saliva in my throat has evaporated. The word ‘touched’ is triggering for me. It makes me think of my curse.
The question that is on my mind is whether Mum was cursed too. I assumed it had started in me because of the car crash, but recently, since Henry mentioned the argument between our mothers, I’ve been considering that Mum had it too.
With a trembling hand, I turn over the page.
2nd July 2001
Some people believe love is like a form of light. It burns so brightly until it flickers out. But for people like Penelope and me, it isn’t light we see, it’s endings. Quiet, inevitable endings of love. Some gentle. Some brutal. Some that never have the chance to have a proper beginning.
My jaw is hanging open, and my eyes are so wide with shock they are almost popping out of their sockets. Mum and I share a curse.
I thought it made me cold towards others and isolated. I thought I was unlovable. But it wasn’t me. It was the knowing. I know how things fall apart. When you possess this ability, it’s hard not to become wary of people and terrified of forming connections. You learn to look and not touch.
Mum’s handwriting has become blurry. Tears have rushed to my eyes. They start to pour down my cheeks. I try to wipe them, but more keep coming.
I reach out and run my finger over the pages. ‘Oh, Mum, you don’t know what this means to me. Knowing you suffered with this curse means that I am not alone.’
There is no date.
I didn’t understand the gift at first. I thought I was cursed. I have spent years pretending I didn’t feel the weight of it, but I know now that pretending doesn’t make it go away. I can’t take back all the moments I held myself back from love. But I can write this now for you, Penelope.
It doesn’t have to make you afraid. One day, someone will hold out their hand, and you’ll want to take it. You’ll want to try – even if you don’t know how the story ends.
Maybe you’ll be lucky to touch someone and see nothing at all.
I’m sorry I force you to wear those awful white gloves. You don’t have a skin condition. I was protecting you. I knew you had the gift from a young age, and I didn’t want you to suffer like I have done. When you’re older, we will talk about it.
I never saw anything when I touched your father. It was the most terrifying thing of my life, but he showed me that it’s not the ending that matters. It’s everything in between. It’s about deciding to begin.
Much love, Mum.
P.S. Swimming helps with the gift. It helps our minds find peace, and in the water we don’t have to worry so much about touching anyone.
47
Miranda is tidying up the non-fiction section while I’m rearranging the crime display table. I keep thinking about what I read in Mum’s notebook earlier. I felt so connected to her when I read it. Knowing that she and I shared the same… gift… was life-changing for me.
I’ve been saying the word ‘gift’ in my head repeatedly. It does sound better than the word ‘curse’.
The part about Dad and Mum made me think about Oliver. I never saw anything with Oliver, but he’s gone now.
‘Hello, Nelly,’ says a familiar voice.
I turn around to see Mr Ellis. He looks transformed from when I last saw him. His skin is full of colour, his nose is no longer bright red, and his eyes have added twinkles. ‘Mr Ellis, what a wonderful surprise!’
He smiles. ‘As you can see, the casserole worked wonders. I started feeling better after the first mouthful.’
‘That is brilliant.’
‘You and Oliver were amazing that evening.’
‘Mr Ellis, it was worth it.’
He gestures for me to follow him over to the empty armchair in the crime section. Once he’s settled, he clears his throat and says, ‘I would like to invite you to a thank you dinner, tomorrow evening.’
‘Mr Ellis, you don’t need to do anything. It was a pleasure to?—’
He waves his hands to stop me. ‘Nelly, I would like you to come over and have dinner with me.’
