Abroad: Book One (The Hellum and Neal Series in LGBTQIA+ Literature 2)
Page 28
Nat was already there. She hadn’t noticed Izzy yet, so Izzy took the moment to pause and look at her. She’d got a haircut, and Izzy hadn’t even known. Her stomach did a thing. Nat had been using Izzy for her hair-cutting skills since they’d met, and she had gone somewhere else for this one.
Ectoplasm.
Izzy braced herself and walked forward, watching for the moment Nat would notice her.
She felt like she was approaching a tiger, with David Attenborough’s voice narrating the moment. Observe how narrowly she watches the predator, keenly aware that this peaceful moment could result in the bloody end of friendship should she make one wrong move.
Nat saw her and made a gesture like she was about to stand up but then thought better of it. Her beer was halfway gone already. “Hey.”
“Hi. Let me just grab a drink, all right?”
Nat nodded. For a moment, their gazes met. She forced herself to drop her stuff onto the bench before legging it to the bar.
Cider in hand, she made her way back. Nat allowed her to sit down and take a sip before opening her mouth and saying, “Look, I’m sorry.”
Izzy nearly choked on her drink. “About … which part?”
Nat rolled her eyes. “For being, you know. Horrid about this stuff to you.”
Izzy was rooted to her spot. She hadn’t honestly been anticipating this option. She had wanted it, longed for it, but now that it was unfolding before her, she didn’t know what to feel. It seemed somehow incomplete.
“Iz, say something.”
This, too, felt off. Nat was nervous, Izzy realised. Bizarrely, it never once occurred to her as a possibility that Nat would ever be nervous talking to her.
“Sorry, I just—I’m not really sure what to say, I guess.”
“I know. Look.” God. Izzy’d missed her. She’d missed her even while she’d hated Nat for abandoning her when Izzy had fucking needed her so much. “I had reasons for being pissed off, but I realise that it wasn’t enough to freeze you out, either. Or, maybe it was, but it was still a super shitty thing to do. To you.”
Izzy gripped her pint of cider. She had no idea how to even feel, much less what to say. She concentrated on the way Nat’s fringe fell over her eye and kept as still as possible. Ears pricked for the slightest sense of danger, Sir David supplied helpfully.
“Here’s the thing, all right? I was pissed off because.” A long pull of her drink. “You’re so.”
Izzy froze, still watching Nat, but Nat looked away the next moment. What, what, what am I?
“You swanned into the place and dropped a bomb on us, and like it was nothing to you. Like, a kiss had—”
“It wasn’t just a kiss,” she whispered. Had Nat fucked up their friendship because she thought Izzy was an actual fucking idiot? Or just an arsehole? She felt the need to defend herself bubbling up her insides.
“I know.” Nat deflated, looking into the depths of her drink. “I know it wasn’t. It was just—sudden. All right? You know what it was like for me to come out.”
Izzy made herself nod. So Dex had been right, then. This wasn’t about Izzy at all. She wasn’t sure if that stung more or less.
“I was fucked up over it as a kid, you know? I’d even thought about.” Nat stopped again.
Izzy knew this, too. How could she ever forget Nat telling her? Fourteen-year-old Natali had been so desperate, she’d reached for her mum’s pills, and she hadn’t gone through with it, but … yeah. Izzy knew.
“Anyway, I hated myself, all right? Just for being different, for being gay. And here you came in and were, like, oh, hey, turns out I like ladies, Kanye shrug.”
“That isn’t—” Izzy cut herself off. “Sorry. I know.”
“No, you’re right. It wasn’t like that, but that’s how it felt to me, and I was so bloody angry, Iz. I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t fair, but it was hard, all right?” The look she was giving Izzy was so fraught, Izzy felt like she was falling into it. Her head was spinning. “And I was angry for a while, but it wasn’t all on you, and I know that. So. I’m sorry. And then I was embarrassed and didn’t want to apologise because I’d been such an arsehole.”
Izzy waited for more, but Nat seemed to be done. Or at least waiting for a response, which she now tried to marshal, though it felt like walking through water. Slow, and every movement an effort. “All right. Thank you. I do understand, I think. Or it makes sense.”
“Look, that’s not the only reason, though.” Oh. “Like … yeah, being queer and experiments and—I know, I know, you aren’t just experimenting, trust me, I’ve heard all about it from Alex and Dex and anyway, you could have realised you were queer even without the sex bit, so I know. I was an arse. But that isn’t the only thing.”
She lifted her eyes to Izzy.
Fuck. Door number three.
Nat looked paler, suddenly, maybe it was just her lips. Something about her went a bit grey, and Izzy had just enough time to panic, to imagine a thousand different horrific scenarios—she’d accidentally slept with Nat’s ex, Nat had found out she was ill and dying, Nat was leaving London—when Natali said, “It isn’t just that you’d discovered you were queer.”
Izzy waited. She couldn’t feel her feet.
“It’s that you hadn’t done it with me.”
It was like tunnel vision, or a lurch forward, she wasn’t sure. There was this one scene in Fellowship where Frodo felt the pull of the ring and the trees on his path suddenly looked like they’d shifted, only they had clearly stayed still. It was brilliant camera work, and Izzy had always shivered at that scene.
That was what this moment felt like.
It was a pull of unreality, a sickening feeling growing from the pit of her stomach and into her heart, up to her throat.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Nat, when Izzy refocused on her, looked miserable, but also defiant, maybe. She jutted out her chin. “I’m sorry, all right? It isn’t your fault I’ve been in love with you since, like, forever. I just never thought it’d be an option.”
“You—”
“You never saw me that way. It’s fine, obviously. But, like. I feel like a complete arsehole right now, so you don’t have to say anything, okay? I just wanted to come clean, I’ve been—I just wanted you to know. It’s not you. Or, it is you, but not, like. Not like that. You did nothing wrong.”
Izzy swallowed through the dryness in her throat and stared as Natali reached for her messenger bag. “Wha–wait, Nat—”
“I’m going to be a cowardly shit right now and scarper.” Natali’s voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to do what I’ve been doing. I miss you. I want us to be all right. So I’ll see you at home later, all right? I just have to go right now.”
Izzy somehow nodded through the din of her brain between her ears. All she could do was watch as Natali hesitated, stood up, gave Izzy a look she couldn’t quite interpret in the moment, laid a hand on top of Izzy’s, squeezed, and walked out of the bar.
Izzy sat in place, her cider forgotten.
She didn’t move until her phone buzzed in her bag, making her jump.
Without looking, she reached for it and swiped it open. She forced herself to look down.
Im sorry. Xo
author’s
acknowledgments
This book could only have come into being with the help of the many incredible and generous people in my life. First and foremost, I want to thank my wife, Tracey, for her infinite patience, especially when, in the depths of grad school, I decided to write a book. I am so sorry. Her unceasing, unwavering support throughout this entire nutty process has kept me going. She is my treasure and my rock.
I want to thank Alexis Hall for believing in this book, for bearing with me as I dithered over this and that, and for giving me invaluable guidance. A special thanks, too, for showing me that Izzy needed her own place in the sun, allowing her to blossom.
&nbs
p; Thank you to my wonderful agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan, for taking me on, and talking me down when it was desperately needed. You are a treasure.
My deepest thanks to James Loke Hale for their sensitivity read. Incisive, educational, and invaluable.
With my never-ending gratitude to Megan for the gorgeous artwork and being such a kick-ass person to work with all around.
Huge thanks to Mary Ann Rivers and Ruthie Knox for wanting this book, and believing in it, and all the guidance and wonderful support throughout. I am more grateful for getting this chance than I could ever express.
Special thanks to my friends and original readers who got this thing paragraph by rough paragraph, cheerleading me from word one: Katie, Sarah C., Nell, and Julia. You four made this happen, and I cannot tell you how much your faith and support has meant to me. Thank you to Bex, for believing in me, telling me to go for it, and being an utter inspiration.
Thank you also to Roan, Moog, Lal, and Kat, for your endless support, big hearts, and constant validation. Thank you to Judith, a terrifying and fearless woman, for being my strength and determination when I had none of my own.
Thank you to my amazing online writing group for being a constant source of support, love, and comfort. I don’t think it is an exaggeration to say that I could not have done this without you.
Special thanks to my best friends (and additional Platonic wives) Sarah and Lea for being there for me this entire time while I have run around flailing. You guys are the best. Always.
Finally, a big, incredible thank you from the bottom of my heart to my whole family, who have been proud and supportive since the moment I finally fessed up that, oh yeah, I wrote a … book? And it’s, uh … getting published? A special thanks to my older sister for, well, everything, really, but mostly for reading and believing in me.
There are countless other people who have supported me, either in person or online, and from the bottom of my heart, I say to all of you — спасибо!
about the author
Liz Jacobs came over with her family from Russia at the age of eleven as a Jewish refugee. All in all, her life has gotten steadily better since that moment. They settled in an ultraliberal haven in the middle of New York State, which sort of helped her with the whole “grappling with her sexuality” business.
She has spent a lot of her time flitting from passion project to passion project, but writing remains her constant. She has flown planes, drawn, made jewelry, had an improbable Internet encounter before it was cool, and successfully wooed the love of her life in a military-style campaign. She has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize for her essay on her family’s experience with immigration.
She currently lives with her wife in Massachusetts, splitting her time between her day job, writing, and watching a veritable boatload of British murder mysteries.
Table of Contents
half title
hellum and neal
title
copyright
dedication
contents
second half title
chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
chapter 10
chapter 11
chapter 12
chapter 13
chapter 14
chapter 15
chapter 16
chapter 17
chapter 18
chapter 19
chapter 20
chapter 21
chapter 22
chapter 23
chapter 24
chapter 25
author's acknowledgments
about the author