Dreams
I don’t know what time it was. I had sobbed for hours, til the light had dwindled and finally sunk down. It was dark now, and my sinuses felt like they had burnt up. I was hot, and sticky, and hungry, but I didn’t dare leave my room. I wasn’t crying because I’d been slapped – it had happened before, and in a sad way I was used to it. I was crying because it was true. I liked girls. There was nothing I could do about it. I had tried – God, I’d tried so hard to be normal. I gushed about boys with the girls in the village and caught myself whenever I stared at a girl for too long and forced myself to only imagine a future with a man. But no matter how hard I tried to hide it, no matter how forcefully I pushed it down, no matter how much I punished myself, I knew it would never change.
I was just about to succumb to a fresh wave of despairing tears when a soft knock at the door jolted me conscious.
“Hello?” My voice was croaky, and sore.
“It’s me,” came the reply. I let out a sigh of relief. Katya.
Sliding off the bed and padding towards the door, I let her in with a smile.
“What are you doing here?” I questioned quietly; aware the rest of the house was silent. She held up a bulging bag.
“Care package,” she smiled. Settling herself down on the bed, she took out the items one by one and spread them out on my flowery duvet.
“Okay, first up, we have some treats from the lovely baker’s in the village. You haven’t eaten all day, and what better food to have at midnight? I also have some lux-e-ry hot chocolate, expertly brewed by yours truly,” she said, brandishing a flask and a paper bag. I was too astounded and touched to speak, but I think she understood my silence, not misinterpreting it for rudeness.
“Then we have a candle here. When I was in Thailand, there are so many damn mosquitoes you always have to have some sort of flame going, and I just got used to having candles around. This is my favourite, patchouli and jasmine, it smells like actual heaven,” she said, placing the candle on my bedside table.
“Okay, a couple more things. One of my favourite albums of all time, ‘Rumours’ by Fleetwood Mac. Incredible. I brought you a book, ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ by Oscar Wilde. I read it, like, seven hundred times when I was in high school. You’re gonna love it. Oh, I brought my tarot cards. Feel free to say no, but I’d love to see what the cards have in store for you.” She spread all of these out in front of me for my inspection, then gripped my hands and looked intensely into my eyes.
“Finally. Tracy. Trixie. I just wanted to say I understand. The real reason why I was in the office that day, the day I got posted here? I was having an affair with one of the secretaries. Judy. You get what I’m trying to say? I don’t entirely know what your situation is, but if you are a lesbian, just know you’re not alone. I’m here to support you, whatever happens.”
I was speechless. It was the most perfect thing she could have said. I’d never experience this level of kindness before – I’d always had to mop myself up after my mother had gone in on me. I didn’t have the words, but I looked in her eyes and hoped she’d understand what I was trying to say.
After a few minutes of meaningful silence, we both understood. We put on the record, lit the candle, toasted each other with iron mugs of hot chocolate, ate Belgian buns and shortbread straight from the paper bag, then got into bed and held each other all night long while Stevie Nicks softly crooned in the background.