Falling is the Easy Part - 26
Sian:
It was quiet, but then it was always like that here. Never anyone about, and when there is, they're always silent anyway. The only noise is that of the wind rushing through the trees and the faint sound of the road in the distance.
Peaceful.
Ironic really. I didn't feel very peaceful. Far from it. I felt the complete opposite of peaceful inside. I'm not sure of the word for it, I've never been good with words. Chaotic maybe? Confused? It's stronger than that. But not quite inner turmoil. Like I said, words have never been my strong point. All I know is that I'm definitely not feeling very at peace with myself right now.
When I was little my Mum used to say she could always tell when I was upset, or when something was bothering me because I used to sit staring in to space with my knees tucked into my chest like I was trying to roll up into a ball. I'd found myself sat in that exact position in the early hours of this morning. I hadn't been able to sleep. The girls were all out somewhere but I'd faked a migraine and retired to my room to watch Disney and try not to think about Sophie and how I'd screwed things up.
It hadn't worked.
The trying not to think about Sophie I mean. She was all I could think about the entire way through Beauty and the Beast when it occurred to me she kinda looks a bit like Belle. And then during Aladdin all I could think about was that she'd told me it was her favourite and we should watch it together some time. She’s all I ever think about.
Now I don't know whether I'll get the chance to watch it with her. I hope I do. God do I hope I do? There's nothing I'd love more right now than to snuggle up with her and watch Disney together.
But before we can do that again, if we ever can, there's something I have to do.
It was especially quiet today. Sunday I suppose, less traffic on the roads and there's no a breath of wind. Normally I prefer it when it's at the quietest but today it was like an added pressure. No distractions, no excuses. This was it. I sat down cross-legged on the grass and picked at the dead remnants of the flowers I brought last time I was here. I should have brought some more today. Guess I've had other things on my mind. I hope she'd understand that.
It's not the only thing I hope she understands.
“I had the big swimming competition the other day,” I started slowly, picking apart a dried up brown lily. “I did it, you know. I swam the best I ever have I think. And the scouts and that, they loved me. I’ve done it. Everything we ever spoke about, everything we ever dreamt about, it’s all happening for me. Finally.”
I felt a smile tug at my lips. Not a big one. Or the brightest. But I was a smile none the least. Just a brief one, just for a split second, as if for that smallest of moments things were different. But the dead flower hanging from my head reminded me that they weren’t. That they’re not.
“You remember when Grandma was worried about you pushing me too hard to swim? She thought that I wasn’t as in to the whole thing as you thought as I was, you remember?” I pulled another dead flower from its stem and rolled the leaves in between my fingers so they made a crackling sound and crumbled into hundreds of tiny little fragments. “I’m glad you did keep pushing me you know. I’m glad you kept me focused and had faith in me. You used to tell me I could do anything, and that you’d always believe in me.”
I dropped the tiny pieces of dried up flower on to the grass. No distractions right? No fiddling, no hiding my eyes, no muttering and mumbling. No more fucking running. I’m tired of running. Fed up of it. That's not who I am anymore right? I promised myself. Opening up to Sophie was meant to change me, meant to be the start of a new me. But here I am, still running and hiding. I’m tired of not getting to be who I want to be outside of Sophie’s flat.
“I need you to believe in me now,” I whispered. There was a lump rising in my throat already but I was determined to get this out. I have to. If I didn't then I'm scared I never will. “I need to tell you something.”
There was a loud roar in the background as some kind of big truck whizzed past on the road and then it was silent again. I could almost hear myself think. And there was blood pumping in my ears. This was more nerve-wracking than being sat on the starting blocks before a big race. This was more terrifying than the first time I slept with Sophie, or the time I ran to the hospital after Jay's accident, or when I told her the truth about my Mum and everything.
I’d done those things though. And I could do this. Even if it was quite possibly the most terrifying, nerve-wracking, biggest thing I've ever done. I brushed an imaginary piece of dust from my jeans and took a deep breath. “I'm in love with someone. The best kind of someone.”
First step down.
Guess that was the easy part. That wasn’t the bit that was going to shock. Well maybe it would shock some people I suppose. People who’d grown to know me over the past three years. People who’d had known me to sleep around and avoid all commitment and relationships and feelings. Old Sian Powers with the heart of ice who doesn’t let anyone get close has finally fallen in love with somebody.
Sitting here now, I felt ashamed of that version of me. The person I’d become after the fateful evening. All I’d one for so long was push people away, hide, run. I’d lost my way I guess. That’s how they describe it isn’t? You know, on those mid-morning talk shows where the go on about wayward teens and troublesome kids who lose their way. I was one of those. A wayward teen. All the drinking and one night stands and turning up late for swimming and missing lectures.
I’d forgotten who I was.
I’d lost track of the girl I’d been when I was seventeen. When all I ever wanted to do was swim and make my mother proud. When my life was about dreams and Disney and happy-ever-afters.
I glanced to my left at the sound of footsteps moving across the path. An old couple were making their way through towards the gates. She had her arm looped through his as they both shuffled along quietly. It was one of those endearing, heartwarming, touching sights that made my heart swell. And then ache a little. I was never going to have that unless I was honest. Unless I carried on.
“It's... It's a girl. I'm in love with a girl.”
Nothing.
No drama. No exclamations or screeches or shouts. No fainting or anger or tears. No names called or snide comments. No spontaneous combustion or anything. Nothing.
I felt my shoulders relax and my heart stop hammering against my ribcage. The tension in my body slowly slipped away and I was just sat, still cross-legged, on the grass, my hands locked together and resting in my lap, almost like a little school girl listening patiently to a teacher. But there wasn’t anyone saying anything now. No-one to offer so much as a murmur of agreement, let alone any actual comment on my revelation.
Still, it felt like the world was no longer pressing down on me. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders. A secret had been told. A truth had come out.
And I felt better for it.
A million times better. It was out in the open. Even if there was no-one else around to hear me say all these things, I had actually said it out loud. For the first time. It felt liberating and great and all these fantastic things. I felt liberated, and great. But most of all I felt relieved.
I’m not hiding anymore. I’m not running. I know who I am, and who I want to be, and who I want to be with. I’m doing this for Sophie. For us. For her. For me.
“Her names Sophie. She's amazing you know.” I smiled, despite the fact my eyes had teared up a little. I felt emotional, but in a good way, I think. A really good way. You know the kinda way where you cry at the happy endings in films. Or when people cry on their wedding days and at the births of their children. This was like one of those times.
Life changing.
“I think you'd like her. No, I think you'd love her. She's smart you know. Really smart. Like she knows about all this smart stuff, feminism and literature and all these culturey type things. Sometimes she’ll say these things and I’ll be sat there completely bewildered and not understanding a word she says, but I don’t care. She doesn’t make me feel stupid or inadequate or anything. Nothing like that. She just blows me away with how much she seems to know about. It’s like, amazing. She’s amazing. And she reads a lot. There's always a book open on her bedside table or her desk. You used to be like that, remember?”
I paused at the memory. Growing up watching Mum read novel after novel, her trying to encourage me to read some more. Not that I paid much attention. As far as I saw it, why would I want to sit about reading when I could be in the pool? Maybe I could read a bit more now? Maybe I might understand a bit more of what Sophie goes on about sometimes?
There was this night, way back when me and Sophie started to sleep together, back before the revelation about the accident and the official girlfriend tags. Anyways, we were just chilling out in her bed after a particularly exhausting evening together, if you catch my drift, and I stumbled across a pile of papers on Sophie’s bedside table. Pages and pages of notes on some famous book or something. They were incredible. All this detail and long words. Words I’d never even seen before let alone understood. I’d asked Sophie about it and she just started explaining everything and anything. I didn’t really have a clue but it amazed me.
“I always remember you having a book with you wherever we were. You used to sit and read whilst I swam. I reckon Sophie could do that you know?”
I’d like that. Sophie coming to watch me swim more often. Cheering me on from the stands, supporting me, looking on with that proud smile and twinkling eyes. If she’d be up for it of course. I hope she would be after all this. I haven’t exactly been the perfect girlfriend recently. Can’t expect her to be the perfect girlfriend if I’m not can I?
I shuffled uncomfortably on the grass, suddenly feeling a tiny bit of pins and needles in my legs. As I fidgeted I reached out, my fingertips just skating over the cold granite in front of me. Only lightly. Just enough to feel the smoothness of the stone.
It’s the closest I can get to a hug off my Mum these days.
“She looks after me you know? You don’t need to worry about me anymore Mum, I’ve got Sophie looking after me now. I didn't realise how much I needed that until I met her. She just cares. Like she worries about me walking home in the rain and the dark. She makes me text her to let know I've got home okay. And... And she gives me these cuddles that make me feel so safe. She makes me feel safe, and happy and loved. Just in the way she looks at me sometimes. It's like I can tell in her eyes. She's got amazing eyes Mum, I think they're my favourite bit of her. Oh and her smile. When she smiles at me her eyes twinkle too and it just makes her look so beautiful.”
The tears were running freely down my cheeks now, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my vision going all blurry or the streaks of mascara that were almost definitely starting to leak down my face. I’d cried sat here before. But this is different. This isn’t about me hating the fact that my Mum isn’t here anymore, and this isn’t about me cursing the fact that this happened to us, and this isn’t about me being left alone.
This is about me being me. This is about me opening up and telling the truth. To my Mum. To myself. To everyone and anyone who cares.
No more running right?
No more hiding.
In an ideal world, I’d be sat in the living room at my old house saying all this. Probably with a mug of hot chocolate in my hands. I’m sure she would have insisted if I’d have turned up on her doorstep needing to tell her something. She would have fussed about for a while, fretting over me, asking about uni and swimming and maybe Kat and Abi and Hannah. Then when we were sat down in the living room, on the old red sofa we’d spent so many evenings watching television together, I’d have tried to tell her the truth.
Although if I’m honest, I’d have probably stuttered and stammered for a while, avoiding Mum’s eye, letting my hot chocolate go cold and not really saying any of the stuff I’d have wanted to say. And when I did, she would never have stayed quiet. Instead there’d be more fussing and fretting and asking questions.
How did I meet her? How did it all happen? What’s she like? What is she studying? Is she attractive? How do I know that she’s what I want? Is it what she wants to? Are you sure you’re in love with her? Does she love you back?
She’d be worried. I know she would. I guess any parent would be right? That’s what parents do, worry about their kids and the choices they make, the stuff they get themselves into and the people they fall for. She would have worried about how other people react to it all more than worry about her own apprehensions.
She was my Mum though. And she loves me. No matter what. I know that.
I have to hold on to that. Because this isn’t an ideal world. I’m not sitting in a cosy living room with a hot chocolate and my Mum’s comforting words. I haven’t got her to stand up for me if someone gives me a hard time. I can’t run to her when I need advice or someone to vent my own worries to. I’m here, sat cross-legged on the grass.
“After I left here last time, on the anniversary, it was her I went to. And she made me hot chocolate, the good stuff too. Although she didn’t have any marshmallows. I better fix that huh?” I giggled a little, remembering a time Mum had gotten wound up over a serious lack of mini marshmallows in our local coffee shop. In her opinion, they made hot chocolate special, there wasn’t any point if you didn’t have any.
“And she has a collection of Disney DVDs too. It’s sweet. She’s like, I dunno how to describe it... She reckons she’s this ultra cool, suave lesbian, but really she’s totally a massive softie. I love it.”
My heart felt lighter in my chest as I spilled my feelings about Sophie. Everything felt lighter. And the fear was less. I have a gorgeous, amazing massive softie for a girlfriend. A massive softie who looks after me. A beautiful girl with a smile that stops me in my tracks and eyes that look right through me. An amazing girl who wraps me up in her arms when we’re laid on the sofa or in bed and who won’t let go until morning.
Best of all, I have someone. I’m not alone anymore.
And I’m happy.
“I know she's a girl Mum, and I know you always wanted me to meet some tall, dark, handsome guy who would sweep me off my feet and love me and all that... But, I'm so happy with her you know? And she's swept me off my feet, and I think she loves me too. She might not be tall, but she's dark, and beautiful, and perfect. And I love her Mum, I love her sooo much.”
The sobs that had been fighting their way up my throat ever since I stepped off the train finally won their battle and I dropped my head. I pawed at my eyes and when I spoke again my voice was barely above a whisper, strained out through the emotion.
I’m not sure whether I believe in a heaven or an after-life or anything like that really, but something in me has to believe my Mum was hearing this. I had to know she was listening, and I had to know she still believed in me. Something told me that she did, and it meant more than anything.
“I miss you so much Mum. I wish you were here, and I wish you could meet Soph. You two would have got on so well, I just know it.”