Chapter 3
TW: Topics surrounding neglect, alcoholism and miscarriage
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As the soft light filtered through the curtains, Lisa lay nestled against Carla, their bodies still entwined beneath the sheets. The warmth of their shared intimacy lingered, creating a haven that made the outside world feel distant and dreamlike. Turning slightly, Lisa studied Carla’s face, noticing the way the light danced across her features.
“Hey,” Lisa began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “can we talk about your childhood?”
Carla’s expression changed instantly, a flicker of surprise mixed with apprehension flashing across her features. She had always been the one to listen, providing a shoulder for Lisa as she shared her struggles, particularly the painful memories of losing Becky. But now, with Lisa seeking to understand more about Carla’s past, a wave of fear washed over her.
“Uh, I don’t know…” Carla stammered, anxiety creeping into her voice. The memories of her childhood loomed like shadows in her mind, heavy and suffocating. She had built walls around those experiences, and the thought of tearing them down felt overwhelming.
Seeing the change in Carla, Lisa’s heart tightened. “I just want to understand you better,” she said gently, sensing the hesitation. “You mean so much to me. But I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready.”
Carla swallowed hard, weighing her options. Part of her ached to share, to let Lisa in, but the fear of reliving the pain kept her anchored in silence. “It’s just… it’s hard for me,” she finally admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Talking about my childhood makes me feel exposed, like I might drown in it all over again.”
Lisa reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Carla’s ear. “I get that. You don’t have to say anything you’re not comfortable with. We can just enjoy this moment together.”
A small sigh escaped Carla as she reluctantly let her guard down, the warmth of Lisa’s touch grounding her. “I guess I’ve always been afraid that if I talk about it, the pain will surface again, and I won’t know how to handle it.”
“That’s totally understandable,” Lisa replied, her gaze steady and filled with compassion. “But I’m here for you, no matter what. And you aren’t alone in this. I promise I won’t let you down again.”
Carla felt a mix of gratitude and fear, her heart racing as she grappled with the idea of vulnerability.
“I don’t think I've ever really shared the full extent of my childhood with anyone, except for Peter.” Carla began, her voice soft, almost hesitant. She stared at the ceiling, the shadows dancing lightly as she searched for the right words. “Growing up on a council estate wasn’t easy. What you see now—the business, the confidence— it wasn’t always like this.”
Lisa turned onto her side, propping her head on her hand, her eyes encouraging Carla to continue.
“I remember the chaos at home,” Carla admitted, the memories flooding her mind. “My mum was an alcoholic. Even as a kid, I felt the weight of that. Sometimes, it felt like I was raising myself.” She paused, unsure how much to reveal. “There were too many nights I went to bed hungry, knowing she chose the bottle over me.”
The vulnerability in her voice tugged at Lisa’s heart.
“I’d sit in my room, wishing I could be anywhere but there,” Carla continued, emotions rising to the surface. “I carried this deep sense of being unwanted—like I didn’t matter. I thought if I worked hard enough, I might escape it.” She shifted focus slightly, trying to deflect from her own pain. “So when I say you’re a wonderful mum to Betsy, I truly mean it. You’re doing your absolute best, which is more than I can say for my mum.”
Lisa reached out, gently intertwining her fingers with Carla's, providing a steady presence. She leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on Carla’s forehead. “I want you to know you can share anything with me. I’m here for you, always,” Lisa reassured her, warmth radiating between them.
After a few moment of silence, Carla took a deep breath, her thoughts racing, knowing the weight of what she was about to share. “You know, I’ve always said that I chose not to have kids, that it just wasn’t on the cards for me,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “But it wasn’t just that. There was a time in my life when I wanted a family more than anything.”
Lisa’s eyes widened slightly, sensing the shift in Carla’s tone. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, her heart aching to understand.
Carla paused, letting the memories from a decade ago resurface like haunting echoes. “When I was with Peter, I found out I was pregnant,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “At first, I was overwhelmed… terrified that I’d be a terrible mother. I didn’t want to repeat my mum’s mistakes. I almost went through with an abortion, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Lisa felt a sinking sensation in her stomach at Carla's revelation. Eager to learn more yet aware of the need to mask her reaction, she urged Carla gently, “What happened?”
“After weeks of coming to terms with the idea, I felt excited. For the first time, I could picture a future full of love, laughter… a family of our own. But then…” Her words faltered, tears welling in her eyes. “I lost the baby, my little girl,” Carla murmured, her voice heavy with heartache. “I felt broken, as if a piece of me had been torn away. Once it happened, I barely spoke about it, even to myself.” Tears began to flow down her cheeks, each drop reflecting the silent grief she had carried for ten long years.
Tears streamed down Lisa’s face as the painful memory of her conversation with Carla, just a few weeks ago, resurfaced.
‘What makes you the expert? How many kids have you raised?’
Those cutting words echoed in her mind like the deafening sound of an explosion, amplifying the weight of her guilt. “Oh, Carla, I’m so sorry,” she cried, her heart fracturing for her partner. “You’ve been nothing but a pillar of support for Betsy, and I was awful to you last week. I questioned your worth simply because you haven’t raised children yourself.”
Carla’s breath hitched at the memory. “You didn't know,” she whispered, her vulnerability raw and real. “You were just trying to support Betsy in your own way.”
“That’s no excuse,” Lisa insisted, her voice trembling with remorse. “I see the incredible strength you possess, and I never meant to make you feel unqualified to support Betsy. I let my ignorance cloud my judgment, and I just… I’m so sorry, Carla. I can’t express how regretful I am for what I said.”
Carla lowered her gaze, feeling the heavy weight of the conversation. “Honestly, it’s forgotten.” She said with a small smile. “I want to support you both; I really do—but given your loss of Becky, I worry that I might overstep. I never want to come across as trying to replace her. Sometimes I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, fearing I might say or do the wrong thing.”
Lisa took Carla's hand and squeezed it softly. “Carla, I promise that you’re not overstepping; you’re forming a bond with Betsy, and that means so much to me. And honestly, watching how beautifully you connect with her makes me believe you would have been a wonderful mum to your little girl.”
A small smile broke through Carla's tears, bringing a glimmer of relief. “Thank you.”
Lisa tenderly cupped Carla's face, using her thumb to wipe away the tears. Then, she pulled Carla into a warm hug.
As they held each other, a comforting warmth surrounded them—a reminder that they could move forward, despite the sadness and uncertainty. With their burdens feeling lighter, both women found peace in their connection. Though they may not have all the answers, they knew they could face any challenges together—supporting one another while honoring Becky's cherished memory as they navigated their changing family dynamic.