“Sorry, but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” They sounded cross.
“I honestly don’t.”
“Safety has nothing to do with size! It’s who you are. Like when Matty’s dad went for him, you stayed super calm and level-headed.”
“Someone had to be.” Not that I had to try to be that person. When anything kicked off, I just kind of went into ‘the zone’. Getting in a panic helped no one.
“That’s a special skill, Jesse. Same with that student in the café—you were amazing. And you looked after me—I don’t even remember if I said thank you. I was a bit… I didn’t know you, so… Well, thanks, anyway. Especially for not forcing me to go to hospital.”
“You seemed to be doing all right. If that had changed…”
“That’s what I’m talking about. There’s not many people I trust to look after me. They believe they’re doing the right thing, but they just take over, and I hate going to hospital. I’ve had bad experiences, but if you’d told me I needed to go, I’d have done it. I’d have fought you all the way, but I’d have gone.”
Leigh turned on the spot, staying within the circle of my arms, but so they were side on to me. The lip stud bobbed as they tugged on it with their teeth, which I was starting to recognise as a sign that they were thinking about what they wanted to say. A couple of long, deep breaths happened before they got to speaking. “How much do you know about my medical condition?”
“Only what you’ve told me.”
“But you looked it up online?”
“I looked up CAH, yeah, but that’s not you specifically, is it?”
“Do you know what it does?”
“To your hormone levels?”
Leigh nodded. “And other stuff, too.”
“Yeah, I do.” I thought I knew what they were getting at. There was a lot of info online about the physical effects, and I’d have been lying if I’d claimed I hadn’t read it, but it was general information, and there were different types of CAH. Beyond knowing that Leigh’s type could cause adrenal crises, I knew very little.
“Matty hasn’t told you anything about it?” Leigh asked.
“Nope, other than…” Agh. Could I say that? Could I tell Leigh about the crazy assumptions I’d made when I realised I fancied them? Or what I’d realised since?
“Other than…?” they prompted.
My stomach muscles were already aching from holding them in, and now I was getting cramp as well. “OK. The thing is, I’d only ever fancied girls, so when I…” I huffed a breath, so embarrassed and uncomfortable, but it was probably nothing to how my admission was making Leigh feel. “I really liked you. As in, from the moment I saw you. And when I admitted it to Noah and Matty—not that I had a choice, because I was being really obvious—Matty told me you weren’t a girl.”
“You thought I was?”
I nodded. “It isn’t that you look like a girl. Sometimes you do, like last night…”
“Yeah, it was a bit…not me.”
“You looked beautiful.”
“Because of the dress.”
“No. That’s what I’m trying to say. Whatever you’d worn last night, you’d have still been the most beautiful person there.”
Leigh’s smile was pleased and sad all at once.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I wasn’t sure why I was apologising for a compliment, but it felt like the more I said the worse it sounded. I’d be so much better at this in written form. Probably. I’d never done it in any form at all. Trying to be honest with someone I really liked was hugely different from half-drunk attempts at flirting. This was a definite first for me, and I was failing spectacularly.
I could feel how tense Leigh had become, and if my arms hadn’t been stopping them, they may well have walked off, because what I’d said sounded like ‘I can’t like you because I only like girls’ rather than ‘liking you made me realise I don’t only like girls’.
“Wonder how long Sol’s gonna be?” they mumbled and took out their phone to check the time. They put it away again without a word.
“How long?” I asked.
“Half an hour.”
“D’you want to go back inside?”
Leigh shrugged. “Up to you.”
I didn’t. I wanted to stay exactly how we were, but without the awkwardness. Half an hour. That was time enough to figure this out, or at least make sure Leigh knew I was still very much interested in us doing more stuff together, getting to know each other, kissing…I really wanted to kiss them. Like, now. But it wasn’t the right time. I took a different approach.
“I was on the Stonewall website the other day.”
Leigh peered up at me with a hint of mischief. “You really like your internet, don’t you?”
I grinned. “I do. In cyberspace, no one knows you’re a fatty.”
Leigh’s eyes narrowed in warning, and I shifted sideways in case another elbow jab was coming my way.
“I don’t actually spend my whole life on the internet,” I argued, even though I kind of did.
“I was winding you up.”
“I know.”
“What were you saying about Stonewall?”
“They’ve got definitions of gay, bi, trans, and so on, but they’re different to the ones in our Pride leaflets.”
“I haven’t seen them.”
“Which? The leaflets?”
“Either.”
“I was thinking…I might suggest we change them for the next batch, because Stonewall’s definitions are way better. At the moment, our leaflet says something like gay is being attracted to your own gender—” I’d mentioned that to make my point a little more subtly “—while bisexual is being attracted to both genders.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Both genders?”
“That’s what people expect.”
“True, but it excludes people…”
“Like me,” Leigh finished. I nodded. “What’s Stonewall’s definition?”
“Bisexual is orientation to more than one gender.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s better.”
“I thought so.”
Leigh’s fingers drummed on the back of my hand. It was a bit like when a nurse tries to raise a vein to take a blood sample. After a moment, they said, “What you said last night about being there for you…”
“Hmm?”
“Do you mean you’re bisexual?”
I’d reached a point of being so…not embarrassed, open…for so long it didn’t really matter anymore, because it was getting easier to explain. “I guess. All I know is that you not being a girl doesn’t change how I feel.”
I heard Leigh’s breath catch, and then they said, “Wow.” They sounded a bit puffed out. “Huh. I, um…” Their eyes flitted to me, away, and back again, accompanied by a tug on that lip stud.
“You OK?” I asked.
“Uh-huh.” A nod and a smile. “Now can I tell you a thing?” They said it lightly, but I got the feeling it was something big.
“Sure.”
“I wore a dress last night, because…” Leigh screwed their eyes tight shut. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I did, very much.”
“And…you’d like me.”
Oh. “Because you were wearing a dress?”
Leigh gave a pained nod.
“I’d like you just as much if you weren’t wearing a dress.” Only after the words were out did I realise how they sounded, and all my prior blushing was nothing compared to the inferno blazing up my face now. “What I mean is, you should wear what you want to.”
“Yeah, I know.” Leigh was laughing. “And maybe I would’ve worn a dress anyway, but… It’s just…” Their laughter faded to a bashful smile. “I’ve liked you from the beginning, too. When I saw you in the pizza restaurant—it was actually you I noticed first.”
“Oh, god.” That was my worst fear confirmed, right there.
“Then I noticed Matty was sitting with you, and I…kind of�
��used the excuse of saying hi to him to come over. That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Not really.”
“Then what’s the matter? You’re acting a bit…off. Have I said something wrong?”
I knew that dough ball would come back to bite me on the arse. “I was stuffing my face at the time, and you caught me by surprise.” As in made me gasp and nearly choke, but I decided not to share that part. “I was supposed to be fasting.”
“Because of your religion?”
If only. “No, I’m not really religious. I try not to eat some days…to, well…lose weight.”
Leigh’s eyes narrowed again, but they didn’t take it any further. “I didn’t notice you were eating, but I did notice your shiny lips. I thought you were wearing gloss.”
“That would’ve been garlic butter.”
“Mmm.” Leigh licked their lips and gave me a playful smile. I got a bit flustered, and they laughed, but we were edging closer to it. Again, I cursed myself for not having the courage to act and wishing Leigh would make a move, but they’d done that twice already tonight. Why was it so difficult?
“So, anyway,” Leigh continued, stealing the almost-chance from right under my nose, “after our walk to The Broads, I asked Matty all about you. He said you were straight.”
“I thought I was.”
“Right. Which is why I’ve been trying really hard to be more like a girl.” Leigh looked away so I couldn’t see their face, or so they couldn’t see mine. I wasn’t sure. At the same time, a car horn pipped. Sol.
For no other reason than it was too new to be under scrutiny, I moved my arms away, freeing Leigh, but not without first leaning in close to say, “I like you just the way you are.”
The car stopped at the kerb, and we moved towards it. I held the back door open for Leigh, who smiled the awesomest smile and said, “Same here.”
* * * * *
Chapter Eight
Before Sol dropped me at home, Leigh and I agreed we’d be online on Sunday morning, except we hadn’t specified a time, and I was still torn between making my interest clear and not coming across as sadly over-eager. It meant that, in spite of hardly sleeping at all, I was up and showered by seven o’clock but using every form of distraction to avoid going on Facebook.
“What are you doing?”
Mum’s question came from behind me and startled me to the extent that water jumped out of the iron, and my hand disappeared in a cloud of scalding steam. I put the iron down before I burnt myself or my still very crinkled shirt.
My mum shook her head and walked past to switch the kettle on. “How long’ve you been up?”
“Not long,” I lied, seeing as it was already gone eight. I could feel her eyes on me. She’d been watching a movie when I’d come in last night, so I’d just said goodnight and gone to bed. Or not to bed—I’d talked to Noah for a while and read through the poetry I’d selected for my coursework anthology. I had too much Larkin in there, but in our seminars, we’d been exploring ‘irony and understatement’, which was surely just being ‘British’—something Philip Larkin did particularly well. I preferred Roger McGough’s dry sarcasm, largely because when I read his poems, I heard them in the voice of the narrator of Thomas and Friends, which was fun in an ‘I’m a sad English student’ way.
At the platform, he awaits
Percy in his green-grey regalia…re-grey-leer
Neither Henry nor Thomas nor any other
Loco, oh no—it must be Percy
The Fat Controller decreed.
Who actually thought it was a good idea to name a character in a kids’ programme ‘The Fat Controller’? Well, anyway, sad English student that I was, I still didn’t read post-war British poetry for fun, and I’d thought it would help me sleep, as in bore me to unconsciousness. Needless to say, it didn’t work, because every time I thought about Leigh—therefore, every couple of minutes or so—my belly did a roll and my pulse shot off at some dangerously high speed. I was too hot, threw the duvet off, too cold, pulled it back on, too thirsty, needed a drink, drank too much, needed the loo, and so on and so forthed my way through to giving-up-on-sleep time.
“Jesse! Look what you’re doing!”
Instinctively, I lifted the iron from the board. Oops. “Sorry.”
Mum sighed and unplugged it even though I wasn’t done, but it was for the best. “At least it wasn’t your shirt,” she muttered while I stared guiltily at the iron-shaped scorch on the ironing-board cover. I stuck the half-smooth, half-wrinkly shirt back in the basket and put the ironing board away. By the time I returned, Mum had made two cups of tea and was sitting at the table. I joined her.
“Thanks,” I said, picking up my cup and nursing it until my hands tingled from the heat. “That place we went to last night was a bit of a dive.”
“Where was it?”
“Somewhere in the town centre. Might’ve been the high street. The music was good, though. Nora—that’s Leigh’s mate—is seriously talented. I think she’s a bit older than Leigh.” I pictured the two of them chattering away and laughing. It was so vivid I could almost count the stripes on Leigh’s waistcoat. “Leigh’s dyed their hair purple,” I said.
“How could you tell?” Mum asked dryly. I was quite conservative as students went, and I wondered how she’d react if I dyed my hair a crazy colour—not that I was planning to—or maybe got that eyebrow piercing?
“Did I tell you about Leigh’s lip piercing? I think we counted eight piercings in total, and they said they were getting the other side of their lip done. It’s called a snakebite.”
My mum shuddered.
“You’ve got your ears pierced,” I pointed out.
“True, but ears are fleshy, aren’t they?” Mum reached up and twiddled one of her earrings.
I’d bought them for her thirtieth birthday, fifteen years ago. God, I was getting old. Well, I wasn’t that old, and my grandma took me to buy them and subsidised my purchase. My mum had worn them ever since—little turquoise hearts that hung on silver hoops just below her earlobes.
“And what about when you eat?” she asked. I frowned. I’d lost the thread. “Doesn’t it get into the hole?”
“Oh! You mean…” I poked the inside of my lip in the place corresponding to Leigh’s piercing. Mum pulled a face, and I laughed.
“Don’t be getting ideas,” she warned.
I just laughed more, hoping to hide my thoughts about both piercings and how much I wanted to get close enough that I could tug Leigh’s lip stud myself. The thought did things to me that nobody needs to happen in the company of their mother. Luckily, the table was there to protect my modesty.
“What are your plans for today, then?” Mum asked. “Seeing Leigh, I suppose?”
“I hope so. We didn’t arrange anything, but I might suggest we go for a walk or something. What’s the weather forecast?” I had my phone in my pocket, so I could’ve checked for myself, but my mum would know without looking.
“More of the same. They say it’ll break tomorrow.”
“Good,” I said, and not for the delight of basking in another ‘Indian summer’ day. I hated it being so hot and sticky, especially at night. Especially when my head was already full of stuff that kept me awake.
Mum got up, taking her cup with her. “I’m going for a shower.”
“OK.” That was fair warning not to use the taps until she was done. I watched her leave and then took out my phone, planning in my head what I was going to say to Leigh. Hey, what are you up to today? No, that sounded like ‘if you’ve got nothing better to do’. Hey, I’d love to meet up today, maybe go for a walk?’ Hmm…better…maybe go for a romantic walk. But Leigh had beaten me to it.
Hi Jesse! Thanks for coming with me last night. I really enjoyed it, and being with you! Wanna come over? Or have you got loads to do today? It’s OK if you can’t. x
With shaking hands—and, for the first time ever, gratitude for autocorrect—I typed back: Hey Leigh. Thanks for inviting me. I
t was awesome. I’d love to come over – was thinking we could go for a walk together? Maybe? What time is good for you? I stopped short of saying ‘I could leave now’ and finished with ‘x’.
I waited for the three dots to indicate a reply was coming, but they didn’t appear. I refreshed, locked and unlocked my phone, refreshed again. Still nothing. I reread what I’d sent to make sure it made sense and wasn’t too pushy, which I didn’t think it was.
My mum finished in the shower and went into her room to get dressed. I refilled the kettle, contemplating just catching the bus. It took almost an hour, and if Leigh had changed their mind, I could visit Noah and Matty instead, although knowing them, they were having a lie-in. Agh, this was difficult. I was normally quite a patient person, but I really wanted to see Leigh!
The kettle boiled, and I called through to my mum, “Tea or coffee?” at the same time as she turned on the hairdryer. I took a chance on coffee, checked my messages one more time, to no avail, and went to get my laptop. I figured I might as well put the time to good use, if I could concentrate, that is.
My laptop was ancient, and I really needed a new one, but this close to the end of my degree, I didn’t much fancy wasting time on setting it up and getting used to a new operating system. I wasn’t yet behind with coursework, but equally, two evenings out socialising, and hopefully today, too, meant I wasn’t ahead of myself, either.
My mum was back in the kitchen and halfway through making us omelettes before my laptop finally got its act together, which was also when my phone buzzed.
Sorry – went for a run. Just popping in the shower, so anytime you like! I’ll be here. :) x
I looked over at the omelette my mum was lifting onto the plate and checked the time; there was a bus in twenty minutes, another in just under an hour. I could eat now and get the later bus, but…
“Sorry, Mum. I haven’t got time for breakfast.” I closed my laptop and got up.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” She gestured to the omelette.
“You eat it. I can always make the other one later.”
The Making of Us Page 7