by Marie Yates
‘I know something’s up, Dani,’ Mum said earlier. ‘When I brought you a snack, it looked like you were actually studying.’ Mum laughed and tried to start a conversation.
‘You have a go at me when I am behind with work and you take the piss when I’m trying to get stuff done, I can’t do anything right,’ I snapped back, immediately regretting it.
That wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t like I could tell her what was actually wrong. She would never understand. Nobody would understand.
I went over and over it in my head. What was the worst thing that could happen? It felt like that worst thing had already happened, I felt like I’d lost Frankie. It was not just that I’d lost my friend, it was that I still felt a wave of excitement in my stomach when I saw her. Nobody seemed to have told my stomach that we were not really talking. I read, and re-read, old messages. They were different to the messages I sent to the others. I found some selfies we took on our last day out with Reggie. We were close in those pictures. Physically close. My stomach did that thing again when I looked at them. Why was I being such an idiot? I had someone who actually liked me. I just didn’t believe she would still like me if she knew what a total mess I was. She brought out the best me, but she hadn’t seen me at my worst. Why would anyone want to be with me when I was scared of getting close to them?
There were still tears in my eyes as I got ready for my grading. I couldn’t eat, which was always a sign that something wasn’t right. Reggie laid his head on my lap as I sat and watched the ticking clock. I was early. What was wrong with me?
‘Is that good luck dribble?’ I asked him. I could feel my knee was a little bit soggy and hoped that it would be dry by the time I stood up and took my position for the grading. ‘It wouldn’t be the same without some good luck dribble.’ He pottered off to his bed; happy with his perfectly executed ‘good luck’ message.
A few minutes later I set off and walked to the building that had become a second home to me. It was my safe place. I loved going in, seeing the same faces and feeling like I belonged. It was mine. It was something totally separate to Sixth Form, to family, to friends and something that didn’t have any links to Frankie. It was just mine. At least, I liked to think it was.
As I approached the main hall, Mum suddenly appeared through the door. ‘Like I’d miss this, good luck, baby girl,’ she said.
‘How did you know?’
‘You should know by now, I don’t miss a thing.’
That was quite a scary thought. If she didn’t miss a thing, then what else did she know about? Frankie popped in to my head again and I forced myself to shut her out. ‘This is my time, this is my time, this is my time,’ I repeated over and over again in my head. In that moment, all I wanted was to pass my grading. In that moment, nothing else mattered.
All of the practice turned out to be worth it. I might not have always been doing it for the right reasons, but then I never thought there would ever be a wrong reason to practice something you loved, something that was good for you and something that made you feel proud of yourself. I was proud of myself. I passed my grading.
As had become tradition, we drove home via the takeaway. It was actually a complete detour, and not on the way home at all, but it was always a welcome drive.
‘That was amazing,’ Mum proudly declared. ‘I’ve sat through a lot of gradings, but that one was something special. You looked like a pro.’
Okay, so that was going a bit far, but I was pleased she could see that I had improved. ‘Thanks, I did okay.’
‘Only okay? Well, if that’s “okay”, I can’t wait to see what you do when you’re “pretty good” and getting the next belt. But first, we’re celebrating this one.’
I had something else to celebrate. In the middle of my grading, the answer had come to me. I didn’t want to lose Frankie, but I also didn’t want her to like only the version of me she had seen so far. I wanted her to know why I was afraid, why I couldn’t leap into a relationship with her. I desperately wanted her to know that I was sorry for hurting her and that it was nothing to do with how awesome she was. She needed to know that I thought she was awesome.
So sitting here in my room now, I think more about it. What’s the worst that can happen if I just tell her the truth? That was what came to me in that burst of inspiration. It’s my biggest fear and the only solution, all rolled into one. The worst thing that can happen is that she decides she doesn’t want to be with me, or be friends with me after all. If that happens, then I know that she’s not the person I want to be with anyway. Even worse than that, she might walk away and then tell other people, but I’ve dealt with worse. Then, there’s the other question. What’s the best thing that could happen? When I start to think about that, the wave of excitement in my stomach goes into overdrive.
Eighteen
So, telling the truth turned out not to be the worst thing in the world after all.
I thought it would be. I thought that telling Frankie the whole truth would be the start of another nightmare, that it would mean losing her for good and destroying the best thing that had ever happened to me. What she said though tore me apart and comforted me all at the same time.
‘I think you might have underestimated me a little bit,’ she whispered, and held my hand.
I had sent her a message while I was enjoying my celebratory takeaway. ‘Hey, fancy meeting up tomo, for lunch, my treat x.’
Actually, it was Mum’s treat as she had given me some money to do something fun and celebrate my red belt. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more than see Frankie.
‘Sure, I’d luv to x,’ she replied. That felt good. She still wanted to see me and that had to be a good sign. I hadn’t totally ruined it then.
My stomach was in knots as I waited for her outside our favourite café. As soon as I got there, I knew I had made a mistake. Not about seeing her or about telling her the truth, but there was no way I was going to sit in a busy café and talk about stuff. We’d spent a lot of time in the same café laughing about the conversations we could overhear. I should have thought that through. I needed a Plan B.
‘Fancy going for a walk first? It’s really busy in there,’ I said as soon as Frankie arrived.
‘A walk? Without Reggie? How weird.’ She smiled and we headed off in the direction of the park.
‘You could have picked a warmer day for a trek.’
That was a fair comment. I was still plucking up the courage to start telling Frankie all of the things I was so desperate to tell her. After hours of worrying about it, I hadn’t actually figured out how I was going to start the conversation.
‘Let’s sit down.’
‘Yeah, that’s a great idea, Dani, let’s get even colder,’ she joked as she sat on the bench and wrapped her jacket tightly around her.
Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Frankie sat with me, giving me her undivided attention and she didn’t say a word. I started with how happy I had been in my old school, how I didn’t realise how good life was back then. I told her that I had been raped on my way home from school and that after the court case was over, we had moved here. I apologised for telling her that we’d moved for Mum’s job, but that’s what we told everyone and it had almost become the truth for us. I told her about Reggie, my life-changing best friend. I didn’t even feel silly when I admitted that without him, I was not sure I’d still be here. That boy saved my life, little by little, day by day, and had made the world a safe place for me again. More than that, he’d made the world a fun place to be. I told her about the bullies, in more detail than maybe I should have done, especially as a couple of them went to her running club. Then I told her about how life had become great again. Starting Sixth Form, meeting her. Mainly just meeting her.
‘You see, I’m not trying to hurt you. The last thing on earth I want to do is mess you around. I just want to be sure that what I’m feeling is real. I do like you. I really do like you, a lot. I’m just scared, I guess. I’m scared that tellin
g you all this will put you off me, but not telling you feels wrong too.’
I ran out of words. I felt exhausted and terrified that it was all going to be for nothing. I’d just taken the biggest risk of my life.
When Frankie whispered those words, I knew the risk had been worth it.
‘Nothing you’ve told me changes how I feel. If anything, it’s made me like you more and I didn’t think that was possible. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met and I’m honoured that you’ve trusted me with this. I promise you I won’t tell a soul, you can trust me.’
The relief made me cry.
‘Jeez, you can say all that and only now your eyes are watering,’ she said. ‘I’m here, I’m not going anywhere and you can take all the time you need. Just don’t go quiet on me again.’
‘I won’t,’ I promised, and I meant it. I wasn’t going to risk losing her, not again. ‘Lunch?
‘I seriously thought you’d never ask.’
Eating lunch with Frankie was paradise. We laughed and joked like we used to. I was worried that even if things went well, she might treat me differently, might not know what to say, or would ask me loads of questions.
She was right, I had totally underestimated her.
Nineteen
The last couple of weeks have been a blur. I have been floating around in a bubble of happiness, something I never thought I’d experience and honestly never realised existed. Frankie has stuck to her word and hasn’t put any pressure on me at all. I have my friend back; better than that, all the awkwardness has gone and when she holds my hand, I feel like the luckiest girl alive. This hasn’t helped my concentration levels and I’m behind on my work, but I’m not sure I care. I’m supposed to be making the most of today as a study day while Frankie is away at a running training thing, but I miss her and can’t wait to see her.
Feeling like this got me thinking about Mum too. I can’t even begin to imagine how she must have felt when the sperm donor, or ‘Dad’ I suppose I should call him, abandoned her and simply never reappeared. How did she deal with that? She had me to deal with too. I was a baby, so arguably more hassle than I am now, although Mum might not agree. As Grandpa said, ‘You were cuter then, but we couldn’t leave you at home all day like we can now.’
I know that she loves Sammy and considering how well I took that when she told me, that can’t have been easy for her either. Wow, she really has put up with a lot from me! I wonder what she’ll say when I tell her about Frankie? I hope she deals with it better than I dealt with her and Sammy. I definitely won’t be able deal with tantrums! I’d have to send her to Jane’s, although she’d love that!
‘It’s nice to see that you’ve cheered up,’ was all she said after I came back from talking to Frankie. Other than that, she hasn’t made any comments and she’s probably enjoying some peace. I’ve definitely cheered up, that’s for sure.
I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but trusting Frankie was definitely a good decision. So far, anyway.
‘You know I’m always here if you want to talk,’ was the only reference she made to our conversation and that was perfect. Any fear I had of it being weird or her not knowing what to say disappeared. She knew exactly what to say. She’s now gone back to taking the piss, to making me laugh and to being the Frankie I knew before it got weird.
I know that it was a risk to trust her. It was a risk to trust anyone. This time, it has worked out brilliantly and I believe her when she says that she won’t tell anyone. I hope she has forgiven me for being so distant and that she understands now. Her actions are telling me everything I need to know. She’s amazing.
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to trust anyone like this. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever want to trust anyone like this. There’s a fine line between wanting to explain why something is difficult and making an excuse not to. The fears around being judged, or being seen differently, are huge, and you never really know until you take the risk.
I remember the first time we went to the rescue centre to look for our new family member. Mum wanted a small dog that was easy to manage and we ended up with a seven stone plonker who chose us. There was something about me that enabled him to trust me. I don’t know what it was but I’m forever grateful it happened. Mum didn’t even want to meet him to start with as she said there was no way we could cope with a dog that size. I knew the thought of his food bill also worried her. It still does! Reggie had been rescued from a mother and daughter who had hurt him in ways that I would never be able to deal with. Yet, there he was, with a mother and daughter combination, putting his trust in us almost instantly.
How did he know? How did he allow himself to trust us?
Reggie and I have a lot in common, we’ve both had stuff happen to us and we’ve both had to figure out how to come out the other side of it.
I think of Reggie’s time in the rescue kennels as similar to my time going through court. We were safe, but still in the nightmare.
When we collected Reggie to bring him home, and when the sentence was handed down to ‘him’, we were able start again. We both had a fresh start.
Reggie coped with his fresh start much better than I coped with mine. It’s taken me longer to learn to trust my instinct again. He came home and after some excitement that was encouraged by me, he slept by my side for hours. It was a deep sleep, something he hadn’t been able to do at the rescue centre with the noise and the uncertainty. He lay next to me, trusting me. He felt safe enough to sleep and that was something I still never take for granted. I know that being able to sleep peacefully is pure magic.
I have slept again since trusting Frankie, and that says a lot. I don’t know if I’ll ever learn to trust in the way Reggie does, so completely and unconditionally, but I want to try. He has overcome the crap times and allowed himself to trust us, so I can follow his example and do the same.
The only small challenge with him being a happy, sleepy dog is that I now have to try to write these assignments to the soundtrack of him snoring. It’s annoying, and weirdly relaxing at the same time. I wouldn’t have it any other way though. Having him lying here while I work is the best company I could ask for.
Twenty
A couple of weeks into December Mum decided we needed to put up the decorations.
‘Isn’t it a bit early for all this?’ I pleaded as Mum started to climb the ladder to the loft.
‘I want everything looking nice for when your grandpa’s here next weekend and I won’t have time to do it in the evenings.’ Mum was getting grumpy already and she hadn’t passed the first box down yet.
‘But he said not to make a fuss.’ They were his exact words when he said he’d come and see us before Christmas but was going to spend the day itself with one of his friends who had also lost his wife this year. How sad was that? At least they would have some company, but we were all pretty sure they’d have beans on toast as neither of them could cook.
‘Are you going to help me or not?’
That wasn’t actually a question. It was Mum’s way of saying, ‘Shut up, we’re doing this and you will help me.’ Why couldn’t she just have said that?
Having boxes of decorations dropped on me from a great height wasn’t my idea of a fun way to spend a morning, but watching Reggie racing around the house with tinsel and baubles was always entertaining.
‘At least someone is looking forward to Christmas,’ Mum said, more to herself than to me so I ignored it.
She made some comments about it being her first Christmas without her mum and how it was a difficult time of the year when you were grieving. I got that and I got it was hard to see all those annoying adverts with happy families that had been out since October and the cards with ‘Mum’ written on them. What I didn’t get was that over the last couple of years, well, longer than that to be honest, my mum had dreaded a visit from her mum and had spent most of December figuring out ways to avoid seeing her. She didn’t have to see her at all now, so I wasn’t sure why she was makin
g such a big deal out of it.
Making the house ‘look nice’ was another matter. As soon as we got something up on the tree and Mum had moved it two hundred times until it was ‘just right’, Reggie decided it looked much better in his mouth and added to his extensive collection of soggy Christmas decorations that were being stored on his bed. Apparently, this was not funny.
‘You’re encouraging him to do that,’ Mum shouted as she shut the living room door, with Reggie on the other side of it.
‘He’s having fun’ I argued. ‘Isn’t this supposed to be fun?’
‘You’re right,’ were words I don’t think I have ever heard Mum say to me before. She sank into the sofa, looking tired and fed up. ‘This is supposed to be fun, and it doesn’t feel like fun at all.’
‘Let’s forget about it and do it later,’ I offered as a solution, hoping that would get me out of being there at all.
‘Nice try.’ Nope, that wasn’t going to work. ‘Let’s get some music on and try and get into the festive spirit.’
‘Magical,’ I managed. Crap Christmas songs were all we needed to make the day go from bad to worse. Or so I thought.
The tears came as Mum whispered, ‘Your grandma loved this song.’
‘Did she?’ I wasn’t convinced and I couldn’t remember Grandma ever getting excited about any Christmas songs. Grandpa would attempt to sing-a-long to some of them, which was painful for all of us, but not Grandma. She was the first to tell him to ‘put a sock in it’. ‘I know she liked this,’ I reminisced, finding one of the disgusting decorations I had made at primary school.
‘Nobody likes that, Dani. We were just trying to be nice.’