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He doesn’t think about it much, anymore. The scars on his chest are faded with age, and he’s looked at himself in the mirror enough in the, god, fifteen years since his surgery that they’re just another unremarkable part of his body for his eyes to skip over as they take in his appearance. He has a new scar to worry about now, red and angry against his chest. Even so, he runs his fingers along the two small lines underneath each of his pecs, the showerhead spitting at him, water landing on his head and his bare chest and dripping down, over his hands. He knows Donna’s seen him shirtless too many times since he’s come back from the hospital, she must have noticed them, but she hasn’t said anything. Josh doesn’t know if he wants her to or not. It’s been 15 years after all, surely that’s an achievement. He’s jolted out of his thoughts by a light knock at the door and turns around too fast, both in what the situation calls for, and physically apparently, as he feels a jolt of pain down his side, which he can worry about once he gets his heart rate down to a reasonable amount.
“Josh? You ok in there?”
Donna. He keeps forgetting he’s not the only one in his house anymore. He insisted many times that he’d be fine, but no-one seems to want to let him out of their sights. He turns off the water with a sigh.
“Yeah. I’m coming out now, hold on.”
***
He winces slightly at the sharp knock on the bathroom door. He’s mostly fine now, but he still has to deliberately calm his breaths before he answers. “Yeah. I’ll be out soon.”
He stays still till he hears his mum’s footsteps walk back down the stairs, then lifts himself off the floor to stand in front of the mirror, examining his face for any trace of tears. The results being acceptable, he opens the door and walks on slightly shaky legs back to his room, flopping down onto his bed next to a half-packed suitcase. His parents really want to go back to the summer house this year, he knows. Hell, they wanted to go last year. He could walk downstairs, tell his mum he doesn’t want to go, and that would be that. He could have also not locked himself in the bathroom as soon as he felt a panic attack coming on. But he’s sixteen, and his parents are still walking on eggshells around him, as if he has any right to feel worse than they do, but he does and it’s not fair because they’ve decided that now is the time to go back to the summer house and who is he to say that it’s not. All he knows is that his heart is beating fast again and there are new tears pricking at the sides of his eyes and it feels desperately desperately wrong-
He sits up suddenly, shakes his head and digs his palms into his eyes, takes one deep breath before standing, blinks a couple more times to clear his vision and continues packing.
***
Josh can get dressed by himself now - most of the time. He put his pants and trousers on, no problem, and he knows that’s something to be proud of (and isn’t that ridiculous), something he wasn’t even close to a few weeks ago, but that doesn’t stop the red hot flush of shame when he finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed, Donna pulling his t-shirt over his head and carefully trying to manoeuvre his arm into the correct hole. She’s definitely looking at his scars this time. He looks up at her, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. She’s stopped moving his shirt now, her hands gripping the ends of the fabric, barely brushing against him, but burning into his skin. It’s quiet, and Josh can hear both their breaths, mirroring each other. It feels wrong to move from this moment, so Josh stays still, waiting for Donna. She’s worrying her lip now, and her hands have tightened their hold.
“Donna?” He whispers.
She snaps her eyes up to him in surprise, and offers a sheepish smile, shaking her head slightly. “Sorry.”
She moves to start pulling his shirt down, but Josh stops her, placing his hands over hers. “It’s ok, I can do it from here. You alright?”
“Yeah.” She stands up straight; continues to watch him. “Yeah. I’m just-” her hand comes up to her mouth and she starts to bite her nails anxiously, but Josh thinks he can just make out the outline of a wobbly smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
***
Josh feels slightly queasy as he stumbles out of the car. He’s never been the best with long car journeys, though he's mostly fine as long as he’s not reading, but he suspects this latest wave of nausea has more to do with the house they’ve just arrived at. His dad passes him his suitcase from the boot and he mumbles a quick thanks, gripping the handle with white knuckles.
“Nothing like the smell of the sea, is there?” His father says, taking in a large breath through his nose to emphasise his point.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah it’s nice.”
His mum finishes rummaging in the boot for whatever she was looking for and locks the car. They start walking, just the three of them, Josh slightly behind, trudging along the short path with a sense of forgotten familiarity and deep apprehension.
His dad unlocks the door with an unfamiliar key and they enter, Josh holding his breath as he walks through. He’s sure he must let it go at some point, but he’s not sure. It’s different, but not different enough. He follows in a daze, and his legs turn to the room he remembers to be his, the room he remembers to be theirs. The two beds taunt him, the room split in half just like before, and Josh stays on his, not daring to cross. It’s empty, bare mattresses and unused draws, but it’s not empty enough.
He doesn’t hear his dad come up behind him, but he feels the strong grip over his shoulders and jumps. “You ok there?”
“Yup. Just gonna start unpacking.” He lifts up the bag still clutched in his hand.
“Alright. Be quick though, your mother wants to head out to the beach before sunset.”
Josh cringes inwardly, but nods an affirmative. He really doesn’t have enough energy to deal with the beach today. He musters enough to throw his suitcase down on his bed and watches his dad walk away out of the corner of his eye, then moves to close the door. He unzips the case and is immediately assaulted with the sight of a baby blue dress which he definitely did not put in there.
“You put a dress in my suitcase.” Josh stops and turns to his mum as they’re walking in the sand, the green blue sea to the left of them, the sun falling over it and reflecting a snail-trail on the calm waves.
“Sweetheart, do we have to do this every time?” His mum protests, gently tugging his arm. He looks over at his dad, who just shrugs, so he continues walking, but doesn’t give up the fight yet.
“Hey, I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong here. You didn’t even ask me if you could put it in there.”
“Yes, because I know you wouldn’t have let me.”
“Ok that’s true. Really makes you think about if you should have packed it in the first place though.” He flashes her a trademark dimpled grin and she shakes her head, but doesn’t seem too mad. Yet.
“I’m your mother, I can pack whatever I want.”
“Fair enough. I’m not gonna wear it though.”
“Yes you are.” She says with finality.
“Mum!”
“Look, you don’t have to wear it for long. I’ve given up on getting you to wear all the nice summer shirts and shorts I’ve bought you, so please just let me have this.”
Josh looked down at his white t-shirt, unbuttoned plaid shirt over it and faded jeans in slight offense. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”
“Honey, we’re on a beach.”
“So? They’re just clothes.”
His mum gave a deep sigh. “Yes, I’m aware I lost that battle long ago, but we’re having dinner with some old friends and I’d like you to at least look somewhat presentable; you didn’t have any appropriate clothes at all.”
“So you packed a dress?!”
His father decides this is a good time to chime in, correctly guessing that this fight could go on for a lot longer if not intervened. “I think you should listen to your mother on this one. It’s only for one night, it can’t be that horrible. And I’ll tell you what, maybe tomorrow we can go explore the rocks.” He points to a group of sharp rocks jutting out into the sea, decorated with algae and mussels, but shiny and smooth where left bare. He remembers it well as one of the places he and Joanie were never allowed to go. A tempting offer, but Josh is confident in his sneaking away skills that he’s fairly sure he could explore them with his dad’s permission or not.
“Noah, that looks pretty dangerous, I’m not sure she should be doing that.”
“Come on, she’s sixteen now, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure she’ll be fine? Oh, that gives me such great hope you’ll be looking out for her safety. Not to mention our daughter’s gift for clumsiness. I don’t really think this is a good idea.”
“Look she’ll never learn how to do anything if you don’t let her try-”
“Not to mention that she shouldn’t need bribing to be able to do what she’s told!”
“Bribing?”
Josh had stopped walking as soon as he had been cut off from the conversation, and is instead watching his parents move further away from him, waiting for them to notice. They haven’t yet, so he shrugs his shoulders and starts walking back.
He doesn’t exactly know the way they came, so he ends up wandering around for a while, though he’s pretty sure he knows where he’s going now. He comes across a group of boys, probably around his age, kicking a football around, shirts off in the hot sun. He finds himself staring, so shakes his head, feeling a blush start to paint his face. He looks down at his own body and cringes in displeasure. He grabs the front of his t-shirt and pulls it off his chest, and hunches his shoulders even more, hands deep in his pockets and face to the ground as he passes them.
***
“Josh?”
“Hmm?” He looks at Donna. He’s sitting up on his bed, Donna having pulled up a chair next to him to keep him company, both of them eating Josh’s doctor approved healthy food. She hesitates a bit before continuing, looking down at the food on her lap but not eating any of it.
“Why do you have scars on your chest?”
Josh freezes, his brain sending out panic signals to every part of his body, a big red exclamation point flashing over his head.
“Other than the- than the one from the, umm shooting, of course.” Donna continues, her face starting to flush in embarrassment. “Sorry, that was an inappropriate question, it’s probably personal, you don’t have to answer obviously. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Yeah.” He frowns. “It’s nothing.”
Donna moves as if to say something, but stays quiet. They eat the rest of their meal in silence.
***
His mum knocks on the open door gently before coming into the room. Josh is laying on the mattress with his arms behind his head, but sits forward when he sees her.
“Hi. I’m sorry I left at the beach earlier.”
“It’s fine. Please don’t do it again though.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”
“We’re leaving soon, you should probably start getting ready.”
“Do I still have to wear the dress?”
“Yes.”
“Ok.”
She stays at the door for a few awkward seconds where neither of them speak, then starts to leave. “Ok. Don’t be too long.”
Josh flops back down on the bed as soon as she’s gone, but doesn’t stay there for long, forcing himself to stand up and walk over to his suitcase, where the dress still resides, having been crumpled into a ball and shoved in a corner by him earlier. He picks it up gingerly, barely holding onto it with the tips of his fingers and grimaces, dropping it onto the bed. He rummages around for his tightest sports bra and a pair of shorts, he's pretty sure he packed some shorts.
"Aha" he mutters to himself as he pulls out the white fabric. They're old, stained and yes those are definitely holes, but they'll do. He closes the door and starts to get undressed, trying to keep his head up as he does so. He pulls on the shorts and pauses, opening the cupboard door and looking at himself in the mirror inside, pulling his breasts away to the sides with his hands, first examining the front view, then profile. He sighs and turns away, grabbing his sports bra, and finally the dress.
Once they're both on, he goes back to the mirror, pushing his breasts into his chest, enough that it hurts, then lets go. He presses his arms straight against his sides, somewhat concealing the dip of his waist and width of his hips, and pushes the hem of his dress down a little further. He tries to adjust the dress further, but gives up, slamming the cupboard door and leaving the room.
He's been sent to the storage room to find a pair of shoes, his mum insisting that she had some still down here that would fit him. Josh is reluctantly complying, making his views on the situation known through impressive sulking and dramatic sighing each time he is asked to complete a task, making it twice as long as it should have been. He stumbles through all the boxes piled up on the floor, very conscious of his noise, but stops as he recognises something leaning against the far wall. Or two somethings rather. He walks towards it, avoiding the boxes, a lot quieter this time, and let's in a shaky breath.
Two bicycles lay against the wall, children’s bikes. His and Joanie’s. He moves the smaller red one to the side, his old one, and examines Joanie’s. It’s purple and pink, like he remembers, but he doesn’t remember it being this small. He’d probably just about be able to ride it, but not easily. He shudders and rolls the bikes back, and continues looking for whatever his mum wants him to get.
The sea is angrier now, the loss of the sun coaxing out bigger waves and stronger currents, and it’s dark and empty, the stars above not strong enough for a reflection. Josh is staring at it, watching the sky progress from grey-blue to blue-black. They’re sitting outside in a restaurant just above the beach with some of his parents' friends that Josh doesn’t recognise, though they seem to recognise him. He’s sitting hunched over with his arms over his chest, not really because of the cold, but he’s still shivering, and he can feel goosebumps covering his arm. His mum gave him a cardigan to wear, but that made him feel sicker than he already did, so he declined. He can just make out the rocks in the distance. They stand terrible and sublime, vivid against the darkness closing in around them. Josh thinks he could probably slip away, make some excuse, no one’s paying attention to him anyways, he just needs to-
“****?”
“Hmm?” One of the ‘friends’ has called his name, he isn’t sure which, probably the woman grinning strangely at him.
“We were just talking about how pretty you look in that dress. I remember when you were younger, you would absolutely refuse to wear anything of the sort.”
“Oh trust me,” his mum adds, gesturing at him with her fork as she lifts her food up, “She still very much refuses. It's a miracle we got her to wear this tonight, though it wasn't without a fight."
"Such a shame." The woman's shaking her head at him now, sort of like how one would react to you telling them your puppy's died. "You're such a beautiful girl."
Josh bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. He's very aware of his parents sitting next to him, so he hopes his feelings can be accurately conveyed through intense glaring. The woman doesn't appear to notice, or if she does, doesn't particularly care.
"I bet your sister would be so proud of you. You look a lot like her you know? It's awful what happened to her."
Josh grinds his teeth together and clenches his fist under the table, his stomach churning as he feels the hem of his dress against his thigh. He looks up with a tight smile.
"Yeah. It is."
***
Donna's sitting on the couch, her back on the armrest and legs bent in front of her. She has a book in her hands, but her head is turned to the side, looking out the window. Josh calls her name and she snaps her head to him, scrambling to get up.
“Hey!” She walks over to where he’s standing, leaning on his cane, just inside the boundary of the living room, and presses a hand on the small of his back, leading him to sit down next to her on the couch. “You should have asked me if you wanted to get up. Are you ok?”
“I’m fine.”
“Ok.” Donna looks at him sceptically, but doesn’t say anything. “So, what did you need?”
“Uhhh, I kind of just wanted to talk to you.” He smiles sheepishly.
“Josh! You didn’t need to get up for that, I’m right here.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to.”
“You shouldn't be...”
“No, listen, I wanted to say something important.”
She leans back into the armrest and watches him, waiting for him to continue.
“I, umm, I wanted to apologise.”
“For what?” She asks, her face confused.
“For earlier, when you asked about my- when you asked about my scars.” He finishes quietly.
“Josh, You don’t need to apologise for that. If anything I should be apologising, it was a personal question, I understand completely why you didn’t want to answer.”
“Yeah, but I was kind of rude about it. I do trust you, that’s not why I didn't say.”
Donna brings her hand back up to his back, tracing circles against it. Josh is looking at the floor, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together, but he sits up to look at Donna when he speaks.
“I was scared, I think. I shouldn’t have been, but I was. But also- if I told you, it wouldn’t be about that any more. It’s not really about- it’s about more than just what happened to my chest, and I don’t want that to be the reason I tell you, I don’t want you to think that’s all it is.” He rubs his hands across his face, then runs them through his hair quickly, them back down. “I am going to tell you everything, I want to, but I can’t do it now. I need to- I guess I just need to do it on my own terms, or something.”
His gaze has drifted back to the floor with his last words, and he stays deathly still, trying to hear any reaction from Donna. He feels a tug on his wrist and looks up, mouth open. His eyes lock with hers for just a second, before she’s pulling him into a hug, slow and gentle. He rests his chin on her shoulder and closes his eyes.
"Thank you"
***
He speeds down the stupid cobbled roads on the stupid pink bike that’s still too fucking small for him, and it was getting too small for Joanie too, she said he could have it next summer, but he laughed and said no way he was riding something that girly, yet here he is, trying to remember paths he’s never travelled alone on a bike that isn’t his, his long hair striking his face and his dress slapping at his legs, and he doesn’t think there’s supposed to be this much wind in August and he’s just about ready to give up and throw the bike down here till he turns a corner and there’s the sea.
It’s huge and dark with the night, and the waves reach high and far, crashing into the rocks with terrifying intensity, and Josh feels the same, so he lets the bike clatter onto the ground and runs.
His bare feet cut against the cool, wet stone but he stays steady, clambering down to the edge of what he thinks is safe, then going further. He stops, breathing heavy, and tears his dress off, arms tangling above his head till he pulls himself free and it flies off, carried by the wind into the incoming wave, slipping down when it crashes to the shore again. He won’t cry, he won’t, so he screams instead, shouts until his throat is hoarse, his voice crying out meaningless sounds to the ocean, washing away his body, washing away the words.
And the sad thing is, Josh thinks, this was never about Joanie in the first place, not really. If she were still al- if she was here, he’d still be standing nearly naked in a pair of ripped shorts, screaming at the sea in the middle of the night, except she’d be standing here with him, they’d be screaming together and he wouldn’t feel so painstakingly, pathetically alone.
***
Donna stands at the doorway, but doesn’t move in any closer. “Hey,” she says softly. “I heard you moving about, I thought you were having another nightmare.”
He’s sitting up in bed, decidedly nightmare free, but awake nonetheless. “Nah I’m fine, don’t worry. I was just thinking. Thinking about good things actually.”
“Yeah?” She smiles at him and walks towards him anyways, sliding under the covers when he lifts them up for her and curling up against his side. “You need to sleep though. You can do your thinking later if you want.”
“I guess,” he concedes, shuffling down to lie flat, Donna going with him, keeping her head on his shoulder. “Don’t you want to know what I was thinking about?”
“Hmm?” She lifts her head up sleepily and moves her fingers to play with the hair at the back of his neck. “Good things, you told me.”
“But I didn’t tell you which good things.”
“Oh. Ok, which good things were you thinking about?”
He tilts his head to the side, considering. “Just-” He hesitates, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “I don’t know, just-” He stops again to look down at her. “That things get better.”
She grins up at him then, a full wide smile that illuminates her face like the sun, her eyes shining hopeful in the dark room. Her head rests back down and she tightens herself against him, her hand flat on his chest. “Yeah. They do.”
***
And as Josh spreads his arms out wide, the first clap of thunder sounds and the inevitable rain pours down on him, mingled with the salt from his tears and the sea. He smiles, and looks out onto the invisible horizon, king of the world.