The Adventures of William Fitts Read online

  “What’s on there?”

  Jordan had crossed my room and was looking over my shoulder.

  “Okay, you’re not reading this!” I exclaimed, quickly folding it up. “Fifteen-year-old me is mortified right now. This is a very personal list, I’ll have you know. The deepest desires of a teenage heart.”

  “Gross.” Jordan pulled a face. “Over-share, much?”

  “Shut up,” I said as he guffawed, shoving him so he stumbled and laughed. “You were still a teenager a year ago, you can’t criticise.”

  “Fine. If you won’t let me read them, at least give me some examples. The less embarrassing ones.”

  I rolled my eyes but unfolded the paper anyway and searched for some examples. “You know, I can probably tick some of these off already. Go to university – done. Get drunk – done way too many times. Kiss someone – done.”

  “What?!” Jordan pretended to look scandalised. “Dude, spill.”

  I shrugged, my face turning a bright red. “It was ages ago, I was in school. One of the girls in my class, we – well, we were both curious, I guess, so one day after P.E. when everyone else had gone home, we made out in the changing rooms. This was like, ages ago – when I still thought I was gay.”

  “Makes sense,” Jordan nodded. “Those can’t be the only ones you’ve done? Those are the boring ones, everyone has those on their bucket list!”

  I sat down, all thought of looking for my passport forgotten. “Well, I’ve watched the sun rise. And I’ve attended a Pride parade. I haven’t learnt how to drive, though, and I’ve never been to Paris, and I don’t have a tattoo. There are more things on this list that I haven’t done than things that I have.”

  Jordan sat up suddenly, his eyes wide with an idea. “You know what you should do? You should try to finish the list! You’ve got time, you’re twenty-four-and-a-half.”

  “I think I stopped counting the halves somewhere around nine-and-a-half,” I joked.

  “No, I’m serious!” Jordan exclaimed. “Your birthday’s in April. That gives you five, six months to get everything done.”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, some of this stuff, sure, but some of it’s gonna take longer than that. There’s some travel stuff on here too, I can’t get all that done in five months.”

  Jordan was getting excited now, oozing eagerness. “Sure you can, take some time off in March or something! You’ve got a ton of money saved up because I know Darcy doesn’t let you pay rent, so treat yourself. Anything you can’t fit in before your birthday, book it in advance so you’re at least on the way to doing it.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “It’s just a stupid list, Jordan, it’s no big deal.”

  “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure! Think about your teenage self, how much this meant to him. Don’t you owe it to your younger self?”

  I thought about it for a second. I barely remembered even writing this list, and I woke up every day happy that I was no longer the person I was when I was fifteen, scared and alone, desperate to work out why I didn’t fit in.

  Then again, some of the things on this list were ridiculous.

  “I’ll ask the girls when they get back later,” Jordan said smugly, sensing my indecision. “They’ll think it’s a great idea.”

  “Really?” I scoffed. “You think Darcy will think this is a good idea?”

  ***

  “It’s a fantastic idea!” said Darcy.

  “Told you so,” said Jordan as I rolled my eyes.

  “What’s a fantastic idea?” Lizzy came into the kitchen, putting her hands on Darcy’s shoulders and leaning down to kiss her on the cheek before sliding into the chair next to her.

  “It’s just this thing we found in my room,” I explained, trying to make it sound as uninteresting as possible in the hopes of getting at least someone to agree with me. “It’s a list I made as a teenager of stuff I wanted to do before I turned twenty-five. Kind of silly, really.”

  To my dismay (and utter lack of surprise), a grin broke out on Lizzy’s face. “Oh, you absolutely have to! That would be awesome!”

  Three pairs of expectant eyes turned to look at me, Jordan looking far too proud of himself.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  I’d hoped that with that response I could pretend to mull on it for a few days, long enough for the others to forget all about it. What I hadn’t predicted was that the idea would take root somewhere in my brain, bringing attention to itself every time my brain was idle. I tried putting the list away so I could forget about it, but I kept wanting to read it over and over, if only to get a glimpse into the mind of the person I used to be. The notebook that the list had been tucked into lay modestly on my bedside table, luring me a little closer each night. I wanted to read it, I really did, but honestly? I was afraid of what I might find.

  The more I thought about it, the more the things on the list seemed doable. Some would require more effort than others and some were nigh impossible, but I may as well try and tick a few off. Right? As Jordan said, I owed it to my younger self.

  The next morning at breakfast, I tossed my provisional driver’s licence onto the table and sat down across from Lizzy.

  “I want to learn to drive,” I announced. “Can you teach me? Please?”

  “You want me to teach you to drive?” Lizzy asked incredulously. “Why me?”

  “Because it’s either you or Darcy and being taught to drive by Darcy Williams might be the most stressful thing imaginable.”

  “Good point,” Lizzy conceded.

  “And it’s got to be quick,” I added. “I’ve got five months.”

  Lizzy shook her head quickly, her morning coffee not quite kicking in. “Why the hell do you need to learn to drive in five months?”

  I grinned, holding up the worn piece of paper in my hand. “It’s the first thing on the list.”

  ***

  As I had done every Monday since starting at the Gazette, I wandered down to Cassandra’s at lunchtime, a café a few doors down from the office. I had been there so often that the staff recognised me now, and would smile and wave when I got there. No sooner had my foot crossed the threshold and the barista behind the counter had already begun preparing my usual order, getting ready to take it to my usual table. I turned to the sofas by the window, expecting to see my friend Jay grinning and waving at me as usual, but their usual seat was empty. I didn’t think anything of it; I’d been late to our weekly lunches often enough, and even the annoyingly punctual Jay was allowed to be late on occasion.

  I settled into my usual spot as the barista – Sally, I think her name was – brought over my coffee and sandwich. I pulled out my phone as she left, ready to text Jay to ask if I should order for them, when they appeared at the door.

  I didn’t have to know Jay well to know something was up. They were the sort of person whose mood influenced the entire room, the kind of extrovert that seemed to smother everything else. Usually cheerful almost to the point of annoyance, it was a rare sight to see them so downtrodden, and when you did it was desperately sad.

  I knew they were aware that I’d picked up on this as soon as they sat down, forcing a smile and shaking their hair out of their eyes.

  “Hey, Will! How’s it going?”

  I floundered for a few seconds, everything I’d been planning to talk about that day flying out of my head. “Oh, I, um, I’m fine. Are you, are you okay?”

  I could see them try to find some reassuring words, but they failed. The whole room seemed to sigh as they slumped in their chair, propping their elbow up on the arm of the sofa.

  “It’s been a rough few days,” they said eventually. “I’ll be fine, though, it’s just all getting on top of me a bit.”

  “What happened?” I asked urgently, before backing off. “I mean – if you want to talk about it--”

  “Jamie and I broke up,” they blurted out.

  Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. Jay and Jamie got together in uni when they hooked up in freshers week, and had been together ever since. They’d moved in together in second year, and had been inseparable. Even after three years of uni together, I didn’t know Jamie very well apart from as Jay’s boyfriend. He was as introverted as Jay was extroverted, as subdued as they were outgoing. When the two of them got together I’d had my doubts – all of our friends had – but before long it was obvious that it was more than just a university fling.

  And now they’d broken up. I felt a sadness more than just for Jay. Their relationship had been one of the few things from our university days that had survived graduation untouched and now…

  I shook my head, berating myself for being so idiotically selfish. Jay was here, they needed a friend, and here I was worrying about my own nostalgia.

  “Are you okay? Jesus, of course you’re not okay, what can I do to help? What happened? I mean – you don’t need to answer that.”

  Jay smiled weakly at my blundering attempt at support. “Thanks. I’ll – I’ll be okay, though. Right now I need a distraction.”

  “Then distraction it is,” I said determinedly, racking my brains for anything interesting that had happened over the last few days that I could tell them. “Oh, of course! I found my bucket list at the weekend. Well, Jordan found it. And it’s not technically a bucket list, unless you count turning twenty-five as kicking the bucket.”

  “I always forget how old you are,” they said, attempting a chuckle. “Look at you, with your two gap years, putting the rest of us to shame.”

  As close as Jay and I were, they still didn’t know the entirety of what had happened when I came out, although I think they probably suspected. As it was, they didn’t know I’d spent the first gap year coping with severe depression and startin
g to transition, and the second finishing the A levels I’d been forced to abandon two years earlier.

  “I may be old, but I’ll be IDed for all eternity,” I quipped back.

  They rolled their eyes. “So, you’re going to do it? You’re going to finish everything on the list?”

  I shrugged. “I wasn’t going to, but the others talked me into it. It probably won’t happen, some of the things on the list will be tricky, but I’ll humour them.”

  “Even Darcy?” they said, not sounding convinced. “From my admittedly brief interactions with her, she doesn’t seem like the spontaneous, finish-your-bucket-list type.”

  “Hey, Darcy can be fun!” I said, defending her with a bit too much gusto. Jay raised their eyebrows in disbelief. “Okay, maybe fun is not the word I would use. But she really is much less…”

  “Stuck-up? Egotistical? Bitchy?” Jay shrugged as I shot them an unimpressed look.

  “She’s much more amiable once you get to know her. She’s kind of terrible at first impressions,” I finished. “Not that it’s all her fault, mind. Remember, her first impression of you left much to be desired, to say the least.”

  I laughed as Jay threw their head back, slumping down in their seat. “Ugh, don’t remind me. First and last time I ever crash at yours after drinking. But back to this bucket list – what’s on it?”

  “Most of it’s not that exciting, or insanely cliché. Visit Paris was on there, going skinny-dipping, kiss someone, get a tattoo. The usual.”

  A quick glance at the clock told me that my lunchbreak was nearly over, and I needed to get back to the office. I pulled a ten pound note out of my pocket and tucked it under my coffee mug, gathering my things together.

  “Is it that time already?” asked Jay.

  “Yeah, sorry I can’t stay longer.” I paused in packing my things away. “Are you – are you okay? I mean, obviously you’re not okay, but you’re sorted? You’ve got somewhere to stay and things?”

  Jay scoffed, but there was no humour behind it. “Will, mate, I’m a fucking vet. I can afford somewhere to live.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said patiently. “It just, you know, it takes time to get a flat and stuff, and if you need any help moving out or if you need a place to crash--”

  “Thanks, Will,” they said. “I mean it. But I’m okay. I’m staying with my cousin, and I’ve found somewhere to live starting next week. I’ll be fine.”

  I mentally kicked myself for bringing Jay back down again after half an hour of successful distraction, racking my brains quickly in the hope of leaving on a positive note.

  “Hey,” I said quickly, grabbing Jay’s attention. “You doing anything Friday night?”

  Jay gave me a withering look. “Is this the face of someone who has wild things planned for their Friday night?”

  “We should go out!” I paused for a moment to judge their reaction before pushing on. “You know, go grab some food, then hit the bars and get completely hammered. Relive the glory days.”

  “What, the glory days of literally less than two years ago?”

  “Yes!” I could see they weren’t buying it, so I kept talking. “It’ll be great, I promise you. And it will take your mind off things, you know it will.”

  They sighed heavily. “Okay, you’ve got a point. Let’s do it.”

  I went for a celebratory high-five, but it wasn’t returned.

  “Jay Goodwin, are you withholding a high-five from me?” I said, scandalised, putting a hand on my chest.

  “I’ll go on one condition,” they said, ignoring me. “If I start drunk-crying, you’ll comfort me.”

  I reached over to put a hand on their shoulder. “Never fear. I will always be there to save your ass. Even when you’re drunk-crying.”

  Chapter 3

  The following day when five o’clock finally came around, I wasted no time in packing my bag, darting out of the office and making my way to the nearest Tube station. It was the worst time of day to get the Tube, but the further we got from the centre of London, the emptier the train became, and after only a couple of stops it became bearable.

  By the time I reached my destination it was close to six o’clock, the sky already dark. Northanger Care Home was just down the street from the Tube station, so easy to get to that I felt guilty for not visiting more often. It was pleasant enough from the outside. The building was Victorian, built from red brick, with a few flowerbeds outside. There was just something undeniably tragic about the place, and no matter how wonderful the building was, or the staff were – and in this case they truly were wonderful – you couldn’t hide that.

  Before I could overthink and panic I rang the doorbell outside the reception, pushing my way through the double doors as they buzzed and unlocked.

  “Hi,” I greeted the receptionist as I stepped inside. “I’m here to visit Edith Fitts?”

  “Okay, are you already on her visitor’s list?” he said, smiling in that genial receptionist way.

  “Yes, um – William Fitts.”

  I didn’t recognise the receptionist, which I’d generally found never boded well. I counted the seconds as he pulled up the system on the computer, waiting for him to inevitably come up against the error in the system.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a William Fitts on here,” he said, confused but still with an annoyingly helpful face.

  “There was an, er, error when I was registered,” I explained, hoping desperately that he’d accept my explanation with little question. “There should be a note on there, it’s, um, under A Fitts.”

  A few clicks later and the receptionist nodded, handing me the visitor book. “That’s all fine, then! If you could just sign in for us and then someone will take you in.”

  I don’t know how nurses and healthcare workers manage it, but you can never have an awkward silence with them. The entire walk through the home, the nurse was chatting away to me about anything and everything, so that by the time we reached our destination I felt like I should be meeting her parents any day now.

  “Edith?” the nurse called as she opened the door in that awful voice that’s somewhere between caring and patronising. “Edith, there’s someone here to see you!”

  I stepped awkwardly through the open door, giving a half-wave when I saw my grandmother. “Hi, Gran. How – how are you doing?”

  I felt my heart break slightly as she turned to the nurse, confused. “Who’s this?”

  “It’s your grandson, Edith,” the nurse patiently said. “Now, I’ll be back in ten minutes with your tea.” She turned to me. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah, we’ll – we’ll be fine.”

  I regretted it as soon as I said it, but the nurse had already gone, leaving me standing in the doorway of my grandmother’s room with no idea what to do.

  “Who are you?” she asked again, her eyes looking at me but not seeing who was there.

  “Gran, it’s – it’s me,” I said, wincing at my pleading tone as I sat in the armchair across from her. “It’s Will, remember?”

  I hated how she looked frailer, more old than last time I’d seen her.

  “You – you sent me a birthday card.” I reached into my pocket and brought out a card that I’d received a week ago. It was the third birthday card I’d received from her this year. She looked down at it, and for a few seconds she looked so lost and confused before realisation dawned, her eyes twinkling as she looked back up at me.

  “Annabel!”

  I hated it. I hated how happy she sounded, how she was so glad to see me, but it was just so wrong.

  “No, Gran, it’s – it’s Will,” I said desperately, taking her hand in mine. “Remember? That’s my name now, I’m – I’m Will.”

  “Will?” she said, as if the word was an abstract thing that she couldn’t place. “Will, that’s – that’s my grandson’s name! You know, I have a grandson called Will.”

  “That’s me!” I almost jumped up with excitement, determined to make her realise before she forgot it all again. “That’s me, I’m Will, I’m your grandson.”

  “You know, he’s a wonderful young man,” she said as if I hadn’t spoken. “You should meet him some day. I’m very proud of him; he’s got a big job in London, he’s a journalist! And he used to be so sad but now he smiles a lot, and he has the most wonderful smile. I just haven’t seen him in so long.”