The Making of Us

by Debbie McGowan

  “Don’t be sorry.”

  I finally braved meeting their gaze, which was no less intense for the tiny screen. There was so much understanding behind the sad smile it tore at me like brambles. I laughed glibly. “I’m a miserable bastard. I bet you wish you hadn’t called now.”

  “No you’re not. You’re just miserable today. I’ve never seen you sad before, so I’m glad I called. Thank you for telling me.”

  “Thank you for listening.” I sat up and gave Leigh a solid nod. “Right. I’m done moaning now.”

  “OK.” Leigh looked playfully doubtful. “Are you in uni tomorrow?”

  “Yep. You?”

  “Yep. What time are your lectures?”

  “Hold on.” I flipped to the calendar app. “Nine till one. Directed independent study in the afternoon.” Our lecturer had taken pity on us and ditched the afternoon seminar.

  “Meet for lunch at one?” Leigh suggested.

  “Definitely.”

  “Cool. And then on Wednesday, you can return the favour. I’ve got a check-up at the clinic.”

  “Oh. Not good?”

  The right corner of Leigh’s mouth twitched upward in a kind of facial shrug. “It can’t go any worse than yours.”

  I laughed. “OK. Wednesday night, we usually go to the SU bar, or we did last year. Do you want to do that? Or…?”

  “Yeah. We can commiserate together.”

  “Awesome. I’ll let you go.”

  “OK. I’m gonna go through this maths again. How about you?”

  I was feeling better, but not up to working. “I’m gonna shower and go to bed. See you tomorrow.”

  “You will. Night, Jesse, sleep well.”

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  Leigh blew a kiss at me, and…I blew one back. I don’t know which of us was more surprised, but I caught their delighted smile as the call ended and closed my eyes so I could hold onto it a little bit longer.

  ***

  Tuesday morning, Noah and I had a poetry lecture, followed by a critical theory lecture, which finished twenty minutes early, so we were already in the café when Leigh arrived with a few of their fellow engineering students. I say ‘with’—the five of them were paying no attention to each other and could’ve been total strangers. Two of them veered off and claimed a table, two more went to queue at the counter. Leigh spotted us and headed over, smiling all the way.

  “Hey.” They set their bag down on the chair next to mine. “Have you been here long?”

  “About half an hour,” I said, unable to elaborate due to the sheer exhilaration of seeing them again.

  “I reckon Brian’s on speed or something,” Noah said.

  I laughed. “Our lecture finished early,” I explained for Leigh’s benefit.

  “Is Brian your lecturer?” they asked.

  “For Critical Theory, yep. This is the third year we’ve had him, and he still doesn’t know our names.”

  “That’s a bit rude.”

  “Understandable, though,” I reasoned. “He’s in his fifties—”

  “Sixties, I’d say,” Noah interjected.

  “Either way, he must’ve taught a lot of students in his time.”

  “Yeah, but there’s only four of us in the class,” Noah pointed out.

  “Four?” Leigh repeated.

  “It’s…cosy,” I said dolefully. It was great getting more individual attention, but Brian also liked to put us on the spot. Some of those critical theories took weeks, or even months, for us to get our heads around. Well, for me, at least. For all of that, and in spite of the fact he called me John, he was my favourite lecturer. I was hoping I’d get to work with him next year on my MA. I hadn’t been sure what to focus on, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do something with queer theory.

  “Are you getting lunch?” Leigh asked, rubbing their belly. “I’m starving.”

  “We were waiting for you and Matty.”

  Leigh glanced around the café. “Where is he?” They returned their gaze to Noah, who shrugged.

  “Gabbing to Lauren, probably. Speak of the devils…” He nodded towards the door, where, sure enough, Matty and Lauren were on their way in, both talking at a hundred miles a minute, although it looked more like an argument than a friendly conversation.

  “Uh-oh,” Leigh said. Noah and I exchanged knowing glances. Matty and Lauren were always arguing.

  They parted company en route to our table, and Lauren stormed off to the toilets. Matty reached us and huffed dramatically.

  “What’s up?” Noah asked, straightening in his chair and leaning sideways to give/receive a kiss.

  “Nothing much. This stupid show next Thursday.”

  “Right?”

  “It’s the night of the Pride hustings, isn’t it?”

  “Ah, yeah.”

  “I can’t be in two places at once, so I asked if Lauren and I could dance first, and she got the hump about it, because it means we’re opening the show.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

  “The best acts go in the second half, to make people stay, or else we end up with a half-empty auditorium. She says everyone will think we’re crap because we’re going first.”

  That made no sense to me whatsoever, and I’d have said as much, but Matty had moved on already.

  “What’s the special today?”

  “Carbonara,” I said, and I was having some, kind of like a last supper, because I had a plan.

  “What are we waiting for?” Matty asked.

  “You!” the three of us said in unison.

  Matty rolled his eyes. “Come on, then.”

  “I’ll stay with our bags,” Noah said, already settling back with his phone.

  “Lazy bastard,” I joked.

  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up as Matty, Leigh and I went to the counter to order. Now lectures had started proper, the first years were thin on the ground, so we successfully secured five servings of carbonara and garlic bread, and Leigh and Matty went halves on a selection box of doughnuts, their ‘selection’ being six banana creams.

  Back at the table, Lauren had placed herself in the chair on my left and flashed Matty the quickest, least sincere smile ever as he put her food down in front of her.

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  “Welcome,” he muttered back.

  Leigh whistled low and sat on my other side. I guessed this was the first time they’d seen Matty flounce. He and Lauren were as bad as each other, but it was usually short-lived. Even so, Matty sat next to Noah and opposite Leigh, so about as far from Lauren as he could get without sitting at another table. The atmosphere was tense, and I could see both Matty and Lauren jiggling in their seats, but then Leigh did what Leigh did best.

  “It’s really good to meet you, Lauren. Matty’s told me what a brilliant dancer you are.”

  “Has he?”

  “Yep. We’ve been watching videos of your shows on YouTube. That dance you do together is incredible. You’re so talented.”

  “Aw, cheers.”

  I subtly looked at Noah, who tilted his head broadly in Lauren’s direction, and gave a slight nod to confirm Leigh’s words were working their magic, but I could see and feel that for myself. Both Lauren’s and Matty’s shoulders dropped as they relaxed.

  Finally, Matty said, “Sorry. I should’ve talked to you about it.”

  “It’s all right,” Lauren accepted. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”

  “We can leave it as it is.”

  “No, I don’t mind, honestly.”

  “But—”

  “It’s fine, Matty. OK?”

  “If you’re sure?”

  Noah sighed and peered up at the ceiling.

  “OK,” Matty said.

  I suppressed my laughter, although I couldn’t quite hold back my smile, because I’d just made a discovery, something I hadn’t noticed over the weekend: Leigh was left-handed. How did I know? They were using their fork with their l
eft hand, and their right hand was resting on my thigh.

  Be still, my insanely beating heart.

  ***

  An afternoon in the library saw most of the draft poetry anthology boxed off, and with one less thing to worry about, my thoughts centred on the other matter I needed to address today. I walked to the bus stop with Noah and waited so I could say goodbye to Leigh before I headed for home on foot, focusing on the calories I was burning even though each step brought me closer to what I didn’t want to do but knew I had to, for myself.

  That evening, I went to Weight Watchers, on my own. I hadn’t told anyone I was going. If it worked, I might later decide to tell everyone how I did it. And if I failed, well, only I would know I’d wasted a substantial amount of my student finance on crappy food I hated and the weekly privilege of fat-shaming myself in front of a room full of other desperate people.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  By eight p.m. Wednesday, I was standing at the bar with Noah, waiting to be served and pretending I wasn’t devastated Leigh hadn’t made it after their appointment, although I should’ve expected it. The clinic was at a London hospital—a specialist centre, they said—which was at least a two-hour journey each way.

  “You sure you won’t have a beer?” Noah asked.

  “I’m sure,” I said, even though right at that moment, I wanted a beer so much I could’ve put my mouth directly under the tap. I got the feeling Noah had cottoned on to the fact I was dieting again, but he ordered my Diet Coke and handed it over without a word. That was one of his greatest strengths as a mate; he’d listen if I talked about my weight, but he never passed comment. There again, he didn’t need to, seeing as Matty had enough to say for the both of them, although he was at a rehearsal, so it was just us two.

  “Shall we sit?” I suggested. Noah shrugged indifferently, and pushed away from the bar, edging through the crowd. It never failed to amaze me how people moved out of his way. Sure, he was tall and a bit mean-looking, but he was the gentlest person I knew. Back in first year, Ryan had said the pair of us looked terrifying, which made me laugh. We couldn’t win a thumb war.

  “That’s a point. Where is Ryan?” I asked.

  “Where did that come from?” Noah gestured to a free table in the corner and we headed over.

  “It just occurred to me, we haven’t seen him at all this week.”

  “He was in the library earlier.”

  “Was he?”

  “Yeah.” Noah frowned. “He said hello.”

  “Did he?”

  “Where’s your head at, mate?”

  I didn’t like that knowing look I was getting. I hadn’t deliberately stayed quiet, but with the clinic on Monday and spending all of Tuesday catching up, not to mention being a prize wuss, I hadn’t told Noah that Leigh and I were…going out together? Had kissed? Were in a relationship? Whatever we were, I’d kind of assumed—hoped—Leigh would’ve told Matty, and Matty would’ve told Noah. Based on Noah’s expression, I strongly suspected he was up to speed already, but I owed it to him to tell him myself. So…

  “D’you know Leigh and I went for a walk on Sunday?” He did know; he’d seen us arrive back at the farmhouse, soaked to the skin.

  “Yep. In the storm,” Noah confirmed with the whisper of a smirk.

  “It wasn’t thundering when we left,” I justified.

  “Where did you go?”

  “The tea rooms along the river.”

  “That’s a fair old trek.”

  “Yeah, which is how we got stuck in a thunderstorm. We, um…ate ice cream under a tree, and…” God, my face was hot.

  Noah’s smirk grew into a grin. An actual grin. “I think I get the picture.”

  I picked up my glass and gulped down half the contents in one go. Noah’s eyes would’ve been burning holes in me if I wasn’t already on fire.

  He laughed and reached over, patting my shoulder. “Good on you, Jess.”

  “Thanks.” I grinned back, until my view was suddenly blocked by cold hands pressed against my eyes. My heart leapt out of my mouth and galloped away across the bar.

  “Guess who.”

  I caught one of Leigh’s hands, turning to smile up at them. Seemed the old ticker was still hammer-hammer-hammering away in my chest after all. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “I wouldn’t have done, but Aunty Sheri needed to collect some stuff from her office.” Leigh sat down next to me and addressed Noah. “She said she’ll give us a lift home if we’re OK with waiting till ten.”

  “Great,” Noah said, and I had to agree. Their last bus left the city centre in thirty minutes; Sheri’s lift had granted us an extra hour.

  “Do you want a drink?” I asked Leigh.

  “Yeah. I’ll get it, though.”

  “It’s all right.” I got up. “What are you having?”

  “A beer. I’ll come with you.”

  “You want another while I’m at it, Noah?”

  “No, cheers, I’ll wait till Matty gets here.”

  Leigh and I walked over to the bar and joined the line of people waiting to be served.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  “Same as always.” Leigh’s gaze briefly met mine and then fell away. I instinctively moved to put my arm around them, but decided against it. I wasn’t sure why, but something about it didn’t feel right.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I said.

  “It’s OK. It’s…well, it’s boring. Don’t mind me.”

  “Hey. It’s not boring to me.”

  Leigh smiled a little. “I haven’t told you anything yet.”

  “If you don’t want to, I understand, but I’ll always listen. I owe you, anyway.”

  Leigh nudged me. “You don’t owe me anything.” They looked away again, this time meeting my gaze in the mirror behind the bar. “It doesn’t make any sense, really, but I always feel violated when I’ve been there. They don’t even have to touch me.”

  Maybe that was what I’d picked up on. Funny, I’d never considered myself particularly sensitive to people’s emotional state, yet I sensed it in Leigh.

  “It’s my height, you know,” they said, trying so hard to perk up. “They always treat me like I’m five years old. It drives me nuts.” Leigh turned and looked at me, rather than my reflection, and attempted a carefree smile. “At least they only give me hassle about my meds now.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah.” Leigh sighed. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure. Like what?”

  The people next to us got served and moved away; we were served next.

  “What’ve you been up to today?”

  “Nothing exciting. Drafted the outline for my diss, did a bit more reading for an essay, tried to convince Noah to do our group presentation…”

  “Did you win?”

  “Still working on it.”

  Leigh laughed. “Good luck. He’s super stubborn.”

  “You got that right.”

  Leigh picked up their drink and we walked back to our table, or almost; Leigh stopped before we got there. “Have I upset you?” they asked.

  “Of course you haven’t. Why d’you think that?”

  “Just…never mind.” Leigh was about to step off, but I couldn’t leave it. I took a chance and touched their arm.

  “I do mind. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…I sort of expected us to be like we were on Sunday. That’s all. But it’s OK if you want to keep it quiet.”

  “I don’t want to keep it quiet.” I wanted to shout it from the bloody rooftop.

  “Are you worried about Noah?”

  “Why would I be worried about Noah?”

  “I…don’t know?”

  “I didn’t want to encroach on your space. That’s the only reason I haven’t touched you.” Oh, the words were all wrong. I grimaced at my verbal ineptitude and clarified, “In an entirely innocent and appropriate in public way.�
�

  Leigh laughed, a snort sounding with that customary gasp. “Did you want to touch me?” they asked.

  I nodded slowly, smiling way too much. “Uh-huh.”

  Leigh’s cheeks darkened. “Go on, then,” they invited.

  I stepped closer and put my arms around them, leaning down as they stretched up into a kiss—not a full-on snog or anything, but more than a peck. Over Leigh’s shoulder, I saw Noah’s overplayed weary sigh and eye roll, and it made me laugh. Leigh turned to see why and caught Noah’s follow-up head shake. For someone who, most of the time, was about as physical as a lump of rock, he could really ham it up when it suited him.

  “Ha, like he’d be any different if Matty were here,” Leigh said.

  “Exactly.” I took their hand, and we finally made it to the table.

  We were still holding hands when Matty arrived fifteen minutes later and stopped a few feet away, his mouth and eyes wide open in a ‘Matty shock-horror’ face. He pointed at our joined hands. “Wh-whe-when did this happen?”

  I turned to Leigh. “I thought you’d told him.”

  “Nope. I was waiting for you.”

  “Really?”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Leigh,” Noah said. “You’ll be waiting forever.”

  I laughed incredulously. “You have gotta be kidding me.”

  “Carpe diem, mate.”

  Now I knew he was joking. I leaned in as if to whisper to Leigh, even cupping my hand around my mouth, and said, “D’you know how long he kept Matty waiting?”

  “How long?”

  “A whole bloody year,” Matty complained.

  “A year?” Leigh repeated. “What on earth were you waiting for, Noah?”

  “For me to sit still.” Matty grinned. He hadn’t actually sat down yet.

  “True, that,” Noah said. “Are you getting a drink?”

  “We’ll miss the bus.”

  “Leigh’s aunty’s giving us a lift home.”

  “Oh!” Matty looked surprised, then thoughtful, then nodded. “OK. Yeah. Anyone else want anything?”

  Leigh and I both answered no, thanks.

  “I do,” Noah confirmed. “You want me to go?”

  Matty shook his head, said, “Be right back,” and bounced over to the bar.