Calling It Fine, Calling It Fine
It was June of 2020, and Fran had been visiting her family in Manchester for the last week and a half. Her and Maren had stocked up, quarantined for two weeks so that Fran could go to see her father, aunts, and brother for two weeks.
Maren had claimed that she was staying behind to look after the dogs, keep the house in order, get some work done, but Fran knew that it was likely more of a ploy for Fran’s sake than anything else. Fran’s aunts were lovely people, but they’d never been terribly comfortable with the whole gay thing, acting incredibly strange and standoffish whenever Maren was around. The Norwegian didn’t mind it much, she had accepted it, but she knew how much it bothered Fran, so she stayed behind.
Fran hasn’t been apart from her family for this many months in…she couldn’t remember how long, so it had been a joyous reunion to say the least. She was staying with her aunts, who lived down the road from her father and just a ten minute drive from her brother. She ate family dinners with them, went on quarantine walks, and trained in the park with her brother. It was comfortable and safe, a lovely routine to fall back into, just enough of a change to energize her. She had come back from her pericarditis scare back in 2018, and with a few months of bedrest practically and an intense rehab, she had been in better form than ever going through the 2019-2020 season.
She did miss Maren terribly though, being nearly four hours away in Manchester. The defender and forward had been attached at the hip for all of quarantine, spending time with each other, watching shows and movies, training together, going on walks, cooking together.
Fran had never thought it was possible to spend so much time with someone and not get sick of them, but Maren proved her wrong time and time again. They had spent the last four plus months together in constant company, and every day Fran woke up happy to see the Norwegian, happy just to spend the day with her and have her company.
She would look over at the defender sometimes, when Maren was reading, or cooking, or entirely engrossed in whatever historical fiction movie they were watching that day, and wonder how she got so lucky as to love and be loved by the green eyed woman.
So to be without Maren after so many months of only spending time with each other was weird to say the least. It constantly felt like Fran was missing something, like she had forgotten something somewhere, but she couldn’t remember what. And then it would hit her in the chest, that it was Maren that she was looking for.
But what was even weirder to Fran was that Maren had pretty much dropped off the face of the earth just a few days ago. When Fran had driven up to Manchester, they had spent the entire four hour drive on the phone with each other, half the time not even talking, just sitting in each other's company as they drove and read a book, respectively.
And Fran will readily admit that she had been a little distant the first few days here in Manchester, spending as much time getting caught up with her family as physically possible. She had facetimed with Maren the second day she was there, passed her around to her father and brother so they got to say hello and catch up. Maren had been thrilled to see and talk to them, but also just to see how happy Fran was to be with them. It made the Norwegian truly content to see Fran get to spend time with her family, and that compassion, that easy kindness was one of the things Fran loved most about her.
The two had been texting ever since she had left, but as time wore on Maren’s texts got more and more sporadic and less frequent. They hadn’t called since that first time, and Fran had tried Maren once yesterday but she hadn’t gotten a response, just a quick text saying that she was on the phone with her parents.
And there was something in the back of Fran’s head that was screaming at her that there was something wrong, but when Fran had texted Maren just four days ago to ask, the defender had assured her that everything was perfectly fine.
But Fran realized as she was about to head to bed, a little over a week and a half since she had left London, that she hadn’t heard from Maren today. She hadn’t heard from her at all.
Not a single text, call, facetime, or instagram notification.
Nothing.
And Fran’s stomach flipped over uncomfortably as she pulled her phone out, shooting off another text to Maren, simply asking how her day was, how the dogs were. She had sent her a good morning text earlier today, along with a link to the wikipedia page to a movie that she thought that they should watch together when she got back, but she hadn’t received a response.
She left her phone off of Do Not Disturb, just on the off chance that Maren texted her back. It was already 11pm, and Maren was likely in bed, but Fran felt uneasy, tossing and turning trying to go to sleep. She couldn’t seem to settle down, her mind slipping into all the possibilities of why Maren hadn’t responded, whether something was wrong or the defender needed space or some other thing Fran hadn’t thought of.
She could just be sleeping, or busy with work or something. She could have picked up a new project, painting their guest room maybe. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this whole thing, Fran knew that. But her mind was quick to jump to conclusions that were not necessarily true. And Fran couldn’t know for sure if her theories were outlandish or not, because Maren wasn’t picking up her phone.
The Norwegian was probably fine, Fran tried to reason. She was likely just asleep, the dogs curled up with her in their giant bed. Fran had finally managed to calm herself, turning over on her side to go to sleep when her phone began ringing, the noise so shrill and harsh that she jumped under the covers, scrambling to grab it. The phone screen lit up the entire room, but Fran didn’t even hardly look at it, the light blinding her eyes which had adjusted to the darkness of the room. Fran simply clicks the accept button, assuming that it's Maren.
“Maren?” Fran asks into her phone, pressed against her ear, but someone begins talking almost instantly, and it’s a Norwegian accent but it’s definitely not Maren’s Norwegian accent.
“Oh thank god you picked up the phone,” says the voice into the phone with relief, and Fran pulls her phone back from her ear to confirm that it is Guro, like she had thought that it was.
“Guro?” Fran questions with clear confusion, her hand over her forehead. She’s incredibly bewildered as to why Guro is calling her at 11pm on a Tuesday out of the blue, and why she seems so relieved that Fran picked up. It’s as if she’d already called the brunette four times, instead of this being the first.
“Fran, hi, yes it's me,” Guro gets out in a single breath, and she pauses on the other end of the line, offering no explanation as to why she’s calling. Her voice is quiet and hushed, as though she's trying to stay silent for some reason, despite the fact that she lives alone.
“Guro not that I don’t love to hear from you but I just…why are you calling me at 11pm?” Fran asked bluntly, and there’s a pause on the other end of the line for a moment, the silence sitting uncomfortably between the two.
“Um…right, well I was just wondering…when are you planning on coming home?” Guro asks softly, almost as though she’s scared to ask. Or to find out Fran’s answer, the striker isn’t quite sure.
“Probably in another week or so?” Fran hears Guro let out a deep, sharp exhale, as if that's somehow bad news in some way. “Why do you ask? Is everything ok?” Again, silence, until suddenly the words are rushing out of Guro and Fran can hardly keep up with what she’s saying.
“No, it’s ok, it's ok. It’s just, well to be perfectly honest Maren isn’t in the best shape, and like, I’ve got it, of course I do but she’s been asking for you and her fever keeps getting really high and well there’s just not much I can do. I think she just kinda wants you, but she’s just delirious and not really coherent right now, so I just wanted to tell her when you’ll be back. Give her a time frame or something. I don’t think we’ll have to go to the hospital though…so that's a good thing-”
“Guro,” Fran says firmly, her voice deadly serious as she cuts the Norwegian off. “What are you talking about? What do you mean Maren’s in bad shape, that she’s not coherent?” Again, there is silence on the phone.
“Guro, what-” Fran starts again, only to be cut off by the Norwegian.
“I…did she not tell you?” Guro asks, a confused lilt to her voice, and Fran’s mind is going into overdrive.
“Tell me what?” Fran asks, her voice bordering on begging with confusion.
“Fran, Maren has covid. She’s really sick, and has been for the last like three days. She’s like, delirious with a super high fever. I thought she would have told you,” Guro breathes into the phone, and Fran feels frozen, her stomach in her throat.
“She’s really sick” is ringing over and over again in her head.
“Guro, I need you to walk me through what's going on. Right. Now.” Fran commanded, and Guro started from the beginning.
“Maren texted me that she wasn’t feeling well like four nights ago, asked me to come and check on the dogs in the morning, right? So I did, and when I got there, I found her in bed just like, super hot and ill and everything, so I had her take a covid test and…she’s positive Fran. And it’s not like when we had it back in March like it’s bad and I just…”
Guro keeps talking, but Fran isn’t listening anymore, not really.
Maren is sick. Maren has covid and it’s bad and Maren is sick and for god's sake she’s here going for runs in the park and laughing with her family for Christ's sake.
“Guro?” Fran says, interrupting the winger entirely. “I’m on my way, ok? I’ll be there in like 4 hours,” Fran says quickly, stepping out of bed and reaching for her suitcase.
“Oh uh…ok. Ok sounds good, I’ll see you soon I guess,” Guro confirms, and the line clicks off gratefully.
“Fuck, fuck, FUCK” Fran says to herself quietly as she begins to throw her things into her bag, clicking the lights on and absolutely flying trying to get all of her clothes and belongings back into her suitcase.
She had been right, she had known that something was wrong, but she hadn't been able to put her finger on it.
Sometimes intuition is a funny thing. But Christ Fran wishes that Maren would have told her, instead of trying to brave it through like she always did. Not when it led to panic like this. Maren’s selflessness was both one of the things Fran loved most about her, and one of her biggest vices in moments like these.
Fran runs into the bathroom, grabbing her toothpaste and face wash and everything from the bathroom that she was using at her aunt's house, running back into her room. She had just zipped up her bag and pulled it into the hallway, shutting the door behind herself and nearly running smack dab into her aunt Alice.
“Oh!” Both of them say at the same time, their hands coming up to cover their hearts.
“Franny, dear, what on earth is going on? Why do you have your suitcase? Are you leaving?” Alice asks, her face scrunched in concern, as her aunt Harriet comes out of her room down the hall.
“Maren’s sick, I need to get back to London. She has covid, and it’s not great, and I just need to get back. I’m really sorry I can’t stay for longer, but she’s really sick and needs me.” Fran explains, trying to swallow the bile in her throat as the words that she’s saying wash over her.
She loves her aunts, she always has, and she owes a lot to them for the motherly role they’ve played in her life. But she knows that they don’t really approve of her relationship, never really opened up and seemed entirely comfortable or loving around Maren. Which honestly, was an incredibly impressive effort considering just how likable Maren was as a person.
But it was more than that. Fran always felt like she had to hide a piece of herself from them, like she didn’t get to let them into this part of her life. She liked to imagine how she would have told her Mom, what she would have said, how she could have told her about Maren. The fact that Maren never got to meet her Mom, never got to see them smile and laugh together, made Fran incredibly sad. Because she knew for a fact that her Mother would have loved Maren fiercely, how she would have loved how happy Maren made her.
But she never got to share that with her aunts. When she had told them, they had smiled and shifted uncomfortably, saying softly how maybe she just hadn’t met the right man yet. Never outright in their disdain really, but just enough that it was felt. Fran had never felt herself shrink back in on herself before, but she’s pretty sure that's the only way to describe how she had felt in that moment.
When she had brought Maren home for the first time, they had shook Maren’s hand politely, which made Fran deflate just by the simple act. Her aunts loved hugs, and in one moment they wrapped her in a hug, welcoming her in, and in the next they shook Maren’s hand, looking at her as if she was radioactive, like she had corrupted Fran in some way. As if she had someone brushed her gayness off on Fran, infected her with something. They never laughed at her stories, never included her in their plans, and every single time it made Fran just a little bit more upset and discouraged.
She knew Maren didn’t really mind it, that she was more worried about how upset it made Fran than the active dislike that was aimed at her. It had started slowly, first as her saying she was sick before a family reunion, and then she had made plans to go camping with Erin and Guro, until suddenly Maren wasn’t in a single recent family photo on Fran’s side.
Fran was in every one of Maren’s recent family photos.
It was as if her life was split into two different parts, that sometimes met in the middle. On one side was Maren, football, all of her friends in London. And then her family in Manchester, entirely separate and somehow unable to connect with that other side.
Fran couldn’t tell if she was selfish for wishing that the two could have more overlap, or if this was just the way that it was going to be. If rushing back to be with Maren because she couldn’t bring her was always going to be her reality.
But at every opportunity to say the wrong thing, her aunts seemed to take the chance. She wondered often if they realized how much it upset Fran, how much it affected how she saw her aunts. How unhappy and sad it made her.
“Oh honey, are you sure that your teammates can’t look after her? I’m sure she’s alright, hardly sick enough for you to drive back to London in the middle of the night…” Alice tsked, and Fran resisted the urge to ball her fists at her sides, biting back the retort that threatened to come out. She schools her features, taking a deep breath before she responds calmly.
“Aunties, I love both of you and getting to spend time with you and being here. You both know how much I love you and was looking forward to this visit. But Maren is my partner, and she needs me right now. I would hope that if I was sick and needed you, that you guys would come, no?” Fran tries, hoping to turn the situation into something that they’ll understand. Both older women looked at each other for a moment before Harriet began nodding, looking back at Fran.
“Of course dear. If you need to go, we understand. Maybe we can pack you some food for the road?” Harriet suggested, and Fran’s shoulder slump in relief.
“That would be amazing, thank you so much. I’m going to go put my bag in the car,” Fran says, moving toward the staircase, Harriet and Alice trailing after her.
After she finishes throwing her bag into the car, she sends off a quick text in the groupchat with her brother and father, hoping that they’ll understand.
Fran: Hey guys, I’m really sorry for the late night text but I need to head back to London. Maren has covid and she’s not doing well. I’m sorry to cut the trip short, I’ve loved getting to see you guys the past week, I’m really sorry.
To her relief, her brother responds almost immediately to put her at ease.
Jamie: No worries Franny, I hope that Maren feels better. Let us know if you need anything. Hopefully both of you can come to visit again next time. Stay safe.
Fran nearly slumps over in relief, grateful for her brother's easy going personality. She knows that her father won’t be far behind in his opinion, even if he’s likely already gone to bed.
She goes back inside, collects the food her aunts had gotten for her as she hugs and kisses them goodbye, setting off in the car.
It’s a tense ride for Fran back to London from Manchester. She’s gripping the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles are white, the radio cranked up in an attempt to be louder than the thoughts in her head as she flies down the highway.
A lot of the Chelsea girls had COVID back at the beginning of April. Fran, Millie Bright, Guro, Sam Kerr, Magda, and Sophie had all gotten it. Luckily, none of them had really been hit by it, it had all been incredibly mild. They just felt like they had a cold, were still laughing and joking around with each other on facetime calls. It hadn’t felt so serious, the whole idea of a pandemic so far away from them and this sickness that they had.
This doesn't sound anything like that. Guro on the phone had sounded nervous. Too nervous for Fran’s comfort, honestly. She knew better now, knew what covid could be like, how serious it could be.
And Maren sounded really sick.