Work Text:
“Right. So. When Vish gets here, do you want me to go hide in the loo, or do you want me to like, stand behind you for emotional support and cross my arms and look intimidating?”
“I don’t want you to cross your arms, I’m the bloody fuckup, all right? Vish doesn’t deserve to be intimidated, on top of everything else,” Shona sighs.
“Thank you for recognizing I have it in me, though,” Áine nods, straightening her shoulders against the heated floor.
“Sit on the couch and pretend you’re not here, but like, still be here , okay?”
“I won’t say a word,” Áine promises, squeezing Shona’s hand.
Shona passes her phone to Áine, looking pointedly away from the Find My Phone screen tracking Vish’s uber from the airport.
His only response to her voice note (and pitiful, pitiful attempt at back tracking) had been, “Do me the decency of saying it to my face, Shona. Don’t leave before I get home.”
“That’s a fighting chance,” Áine had commented. “You get to make your case before the jury, at least.”
“He’s calling me a coward, Áine,” Shona had scoffed. “I’m the stupidest woman alive.”
“Hey— Jessica Simpson still walks among us! Show some goddamn respect, Shona!”
“That’s not very feminist of you, insulting another woman’s intelligence.”
“He’s five minutes out. You might want to get upright, at least. Maybe ditch the trouser suit, as well?”
“I mean, does it matter if he sees me in it? How could my luck possibly get worse?”
“I’m not so sure it’s luck if your decisions led to an outco— you know what, never mind, you’re my sister and I love you and I have your back in all things, shall I get you your jeans?”
Shona manages to look only half -dead by the time Vish’s car pulls up and she hears the wheels of his suitcase rolling along the pavement.
She opens the door (trying to be better, too little too fucking late) and holds it for him.
“Thank you,” he huffs, “for sparing me the indignity of turning a key in a lock.”
He walks past her, before registering the back of Áine’s head against the couch.
“Ah, the sisters O’Keefe,” he snarls, and Shona deserves his ire, but Áine had nothing to do this, she hadn’t even known a secret to keep until two hours ago, “Always helping each other out of scrapes and suicide attempts.”
“Too far, Vish,” Shona warns, and he shakes himself out of it, determined to take the higher ground so he can lord it over her for the rest of her days.
“I can’t believe you, Sho, outraged I got coffee with my ex, when you were fucking your business partner for— how long? Because, the word affair suggests much more than one time, and given how you spent twice as much time with her as with me, there’s no telling—”
“Does it make a difference? I fucked up! It’s over, okay, and it never should have happened, but it did, and I’m sorry. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you give me the chance.” Shona feels her voice crack, knows she’s crying now, wonders if that seems more or less manipulative in the grand scheme of things.
He’s quiet, for too long, taking deep breaths while Shona fights the urge to throw up (again).
“Why?”
“It was just sex, okay, I don’t know— I got scared, you know? With how things were changing for us, I— I don’t know why I did it. I just did. And I can’t take it back.”
“And what, you thought I’d just never find out and you could live the rest of your life lying to me? While you see the woman you cheated on me with every single day? I—” He turns to look at Áine. “Do you have room at yours for Shona to stay for a while?”
(Because of course he’s still good enough to make sure she’s housed, the bastard.)
Áine nods.
“Uh, yeah, for as long as she needs—”
“I still have my old place,” Shona interjects, before she can think about how that makes her look.
Vish sighs, defeated.
“Of course you do. I’m glad you found the out you were always looking for, Shona.”
Shona feels like the wind’s been knocked out of her (nevermind that her injuries are self-inflicted).
“I never wanted to get married,” she protests weakly.
“And now you won’t have to, congratulations,” Vish crosses his arms. “Now could you get your shit and get out of my house?”
Her bags are packed (hell, half of them had never been unpacked, in this too-big, too-far-away house where she always felt a bit like an interloper in her own life), and Áine clears her throat from the couch.
“Uber will be here in five— should we wait outside or?”
Shona hoists a strap over her shoulder and puts on a brave face.
“Fine. I need a fucking cigarette anyways.”
“You told me you quit!” Vish yells, as if this was the most damning betrayal of them all.
“Yeah, well, I’m a lying liar, apparently, so,” Shona shrugs, “Leave me be with my cancer sticks.”
He makes eye contact with her for the first time since his plane landed.
“I don’t even know who you are right now.”
He looks so sad, and her instinct is to hug him, kiss his forehead and make it better, but she can’t be the one to fix all the hurt she’s caused, the world doesn’t work like that.
“That makes two of us, then.”
And then Áine’s rushing past, staring at her phone,
“Shona, we’d better get going, it looks like they’re serious about this lockdown business, and, no offense Vish and all, but being hunkered down with you at this point is less than ideal, so—”
_
They’re silent in the back of the Uber, both because Shona isn’t about to let a random person know her life’s story, and because everyone is listening to the news.
“I can’t believe you didn’t just let me crash here when Bradley and Emma were having makeup sex,” Áine huffs, lugging a suitcase up the stairs to Shona’s flat.
“Because you don’t do well on your own and you would’ve somehow let it slip to Vish that I hadn’t found a subletter,” Shona frowns.
“Why did you, though? Keep this place, I mean. Couldn’t have been cheap.”
“It wasn’t a bloody lovenest , if that’s what you’re thinking,” Shona grimaces. “I called things off with Charlotte before I moved in with Vish. I— I thought I had made up my mind. I mean, I had made up my mind, my stupid iPhone just had other plans.”
“Freud would have a field day with you,” Áine squeezes her shoulder. “Now, did you happen to keep any nonperishables in the cupboard, or will we be wiping down our takeout with dettol wipes?”
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” Shona fishes her debit card out of her wallet. “Get whatever you want. I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Right, well, if you’re not out in fifteen minutes I will be forced to check on you, so try and be quick, thanks.”
“Can we agree to thirty, with the knowledge there aren’t any razors in there at the moment?”
“Fair enough,” Áine accedes.
Shona doesn’t start crying until the water’s fully heated up, at least. Then she’s feebly trying to lather shower gel through full body sobs. At some point, she starts keening, though her voice feels like some unattached entity outside herself, a disembodied manifestation of grief and sorrow and pain.
Eventually, it passes, and she manages to wash off the gloop that had never sudsed up, and stand up from the foetal position she hadn’t consciously entered, towelling off and finding an old pair of sweatpants that had never left her closet.
“So, that was closer to forty-five minutes,” Áine comments upon her return to the living room, but given I could hear you for most of it, I’ll let it slide just this once.”
“Gee, thanks,” Shona sniffles.
Áine hands her a slice of pizza.
“It’s a bit cold now, but it’ll do.”
Shona eats in silence. She’s not hungry, but it gives her brain something to process besides how much of a failure she is.
“Do you want to talk about… your feelings?” Áine asks, after ten minutes of Shona taking the smallest, most deliberate bites the world has ever seen.
“No.” Shona grabs another slice.
“Do you want to get really drunk?”
“Yeah.”
Áine holds out two bottles of wine, a matching set.
“Sláinte.”
They drink directly from the bottle, and watch drag queen compilations on YouTube until Shona can’t keep her eyes open, and without a word otherwise, Áine reminds Shona that she is loved, and that she will survive this, no matter how shit her life seems at the moment.
_
Shona doesn’t even have to call out of work on Monday— Charlotte has unilaterally decided that they will pivot online for the next few weeks, until this all blows over.
(She had texted Shona “Whatever it is— I hope you’re okay” after Shona had abruptly hung up on their phone call. Shona had replied “I will be. Thank you for your concern.” Which had probably only increased Charlotte’s worry, but she can’t be taking that on, on top of everything else at the moment.)
Áine stays for a week, after which Shona assures her that she is fine, and that given how frequently she has been facetiming Bradley, surely they could switch the arrangement, for at least the next week.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yeah, I think I kind of… need to sit with myself a bit. See if I can find a third feeling in there.”
“You know, you don’t have to have a full on nervous breakdown or try to kill yourself to go to therapy, right? LIke, I know I’m tough competition, but they’d totally let you in, if you thought that might help.”
“I’m just not a therapy person,” Shona huffs, looking away. “You know I’d rather do shit than talk about shit.”
“Hey, some therapists give homework. You could have, like, tasks and grades and objective measures of excellence.”
“Tempting as it sounds…”
“Just saying,” Áine raises her hands in the air. “No commute, no pub, no networking events; more hours in the day. If you get, like, really bored or sick of talking to me, the option’s there.”
“I’ll… think about it,” Shona assures her.
_
She does. Think about it. After lying to Charlotte that the wedding’s been postponed (indefinitely) because of covid (a white wall is a white wall, and she’s very careful to have the world’s most boring zoom background for business meetings), and feeling her stomach drop through the (unheated) floor. After waking up in the middle of the night three days in a row. After realising that without Vish reminding her to eat, she has been subsisting on breakfast cereal at 5pm, and whatever biscuits she can find from infrequent, anxiety-filled grocery runs.
do u have an online therapy site u recommend she texts Áine at 22:07 on a Tuesday night.
Áine replies instantly with a half-dozen links and explanations, (“ ooooh, this site has a link to a music therapist- you could karaoke your way to a better you, Sho!”) and Shona surmises that she’s kept a running Google Doc for precisely this moment.
Shona realises that the links she sends have been pre-filtered for “LGBTQ+ Friendly” therapists.
Neither of them say anything about it.
_
By the time she meets with her therapist, Shona is an expert at ring lights and zoom backgrounds, and she thinks all-in-all she looks much more presentable than she feels, which has to count for something, right?
Her therapist, Kate she’s called, is not. Her lighting is awful, and the yellow jumper she’s wearing is all wrong for her complexion.
“You look like you’ve pivoted to video better than I have,” Kate laughs, when she notes Shona’s dismay when her face appears on the video call.
“Appearances are everything in my business,” Shona grimaces. “At least for women.”
“Alright,” Kate appears to click through tabs on her computer, and for a moment Shona thinks she’s just ignoring her to look at Twitter from the get-go, before she rattles off an inventory of questions, explaining it’s a standard health and safety protocol for new clients.
“Have you had any thoughts of self-harm or suicide?”
“I would never—” Shona swallows down her anger— “I know how devastating it is to be on the other side of that. You don’t have to worry about that with me.”
Kate pauses, and Shona briefly wonders if she’s going to assume every bit of attentive listening from this lady is a wifi glitch, or if she’ll ever get used to feeling like a zoological specimen.
“I’m sorry you went through that. That must’ve been really difficult.”
(She doesn’t ask who, or when, or anything like that, and Shona pauses too, waiting for the interrogation to start, but it doesn’t come.)
“It was. But life’s hard, isn’t it?”
Kate nods, checking off forms, and then she scoots back from her laptop, straightening her shoulders.
“I apologise for the formality of those questions, but I’m so glad you’re here with me, Shona. What brings you to therapy?”
Shona sighs. Where to fucking begin?
“Right, well, it’s not covid or anything, first of all, just shit timing.”
Kate nods, patient.
“I seem to have blown my fucking life up, so I guess I’m just looking for you to tell me how to fix it.”
“Have you ever been in therapy before?”
“Not long enough for it to count,” Shona shrugs.
Kate jots down something on a notepad. Her nose ring twinkles in the sunlight. Jesus.
“I’m sorry, but you look like you just got out of university. I thought you had a decade of experience?”
Kate’s eyebrows raise, but she maintains her calm demeanour. Shona’s already exhausted.
“Sunscreen everyday,” she quips. “I believe I’m good at what I do, Shona, but if we’re not a fit I can absolutely make a referral to another therapist. Would you be willing to give me enough time to get to know you so I can make sure I send you to the right person for you?”
“Sure,” Shona crosses her arms. “Besides, I don’t want to be in therapy forever. Just, like, long enough to get my head on straight.”
“If you’ll indulge me in a metaphor,” Kate continues, and Shona rolls her eyes but nods. “Therapy is like a mirror— if I were to simply ‘tell you how to fix your life’ it might be a bit like getting your makeup done professionally for an event but with no instruction on how to replicate the look at home. It’s a quick fix without a long benefit. Now, there are some things, where after a little practice in the mirror, you can do them in the dark— lipstick, maybe, but others, say, a winged eyeliner, you’ll always need a mirror for. Does that make sense?”
“You don’t look like you know much about makeup, no offence,” Shona scoffs.
Kate laughs.
“Which is why I have my own therapist to keep me on track as well. It sounds like you’ve had a routine that’s served you for most of your life, but now, maybe you’re looking to make some changes.”
Shona nods, gesturing for Kate to continue.
“So we’ll spend a little time in the mirror together figuring out what those changes might be, and then, we could cut back the frequency of our sessions for periodic check-ins, or stop entirely. We can stop at any moment you like, at any point along the way, but if you’re up for it, I would like to begin with meeting weekly.”
“Not like I have anything else to do.”
_
Shona kind of wonders if all they teach in therapist school is listening quietly, like priests or the guards waiting out a confession, giving the criminal enough rope to hang himself with. The annoying thing is that it works, having this space where she can talk things out with someone listening, but not really interjecting, until she’s finished a thought and spilled it all out.
Kate phrases her observations as questions, and Shona feels her start to nudge her more out of her comfort zone as they go along. The first couple of weeks are about work, and marriage, and the lack thereof, and what she prioritises in her life. But then they get into the big picture, core of the self stuff and, well, it sucks .
“I've noticed you tend to speak in absolutes,” Kate says thoughtfully. “What would it be like to befriend the discomfort of those in betweens?”
“Life is an absolute,” Shona huffs. “You're here or you're not.”
Kate nods, never contradicting Shona directly, just weaselling her into contradicting herself.
“Is there always a good or bad person in a breakup?”
“I'm clearly the bad guy. I cheated.”
“You told Vish you never wanted to get married, but he still proposed to you.”
“Yeah, but I’m worse.”
Kate shrugs.
“I wonder if you would feel more compassionately towards yourself if someone you loved made the same choices. If Áine had ‘blown up her life’ as you call it.”
“Well, she kind of did, didn't she?” Shona frowns. “What with the suicide attempt and all.”
“And you loved and supported her through that. And she's doing really well now.”
“So there's hope for me yet, blah blah blah,” Shona huffs, wiping the corner of her eyes with a tissue. (She's not crying. The air is just like, really dry in this flat, is all.) “I'm supposed to be the okay one. I'm not allowed to be the fuckup.”
Kate just waits (moving her hands in her lap because Shona had told her it scared the shit out of her when she was too still on the other end of the computer).
“Charlotte was right,” Shona pinches the bridge of her nose.
Kate nods for her to continue.
“She says Áine and I are codependent, that I need her to need me. And now Áine's fucking thriving while my life’s gone to shit and I can't handle that on top of everything else.”
“Why do you think you assumed that role with her in the first place?”
Shona snorts.
“She's my baby sister. She was three and I was thirteen when our dad died, and my mom was a wreck, so I stepped in and picked up the slack. Someone had to.”
“You've looked out for her all her life.”
Shona nods, grabbing another tissue. She has half a mind to turn the bloody camera off.
“I wonder if, between now and our next appointment, there's something you could ask Áine to help you with. If you could try trading roles, only momentarily.”
“What? You're not gonna ask more questions about my dead dad?”
“Would you like to talk about him?”
Yes, Shona thinks, all I've wanted for the past 30 years is to talk about him and no one ever lets me.
“Not today.”
Kate nods, noting her tacit request to unearth that story another day.
“You've done great work today, Shona. I really appreciate you sharing all of that with me. I hope you have a wonderful weekend.”
“Oh yeah, can’t wait to really party it up in front of another box set with a takeaway.”
“Do something kind for yourself if you can, yeah? Get the nice biscuits. You deserve it.”
_
Áine’s task, which she excels at, is informing their extended family and friends that the wedding will be delayed indefinitely, and will absolutely not be happening “when Covid is over.”
Do you want me to tell Charlotte? was Áine’s only question.
Nah, I think I should Shona had decided, after a minute solid of sending the “typing ellipsis.”
“Right, so.” Shona starts, at the end of their weekly check-in zoom, after Julie’s logged off.
“Is this about the cat? Because I keep him locked in his room during client calls, I promise.”
“No, it's just, um, I thought I should tell you, Vish and I split up.”
Charlotte sits back in her chair, running her tongue along the inside of her cheek.
“Yeah, I figured that out from the conspicuous absence of any signs of him. And the fact you're in your flat, not his giant fucking house. But thanks for telling me. Also, Julie reads the transcripts of every meeting, even after she logs off, fair warning, if you'd like to move this convo to FaceTime.”
Shona rolls her eyes, but closes her laptop and fetches her phone. She's not planning to say anything overly untoward, but if you give Julie an inch she'll take a mile.
Charlotte answers on the first ring.
“For what it's worth, I am sorry,” she pouts, rubbing the cat’s ears while he purrs in her lap, the lucky bastard.
“No one's fault but my own,” Shona sighs.
“That doesn't mean breakups don't bloody suck. Especially during a fucking pandemic . How are you holding up?”
“Fine. Well, I'm managing,” Shona concedes. “Áine’s been, well, she's been brilliant. And I sort of missed being in a place where everything’s mine .”
Charlotte laughs.
“God, I know, right? I don't think I'll ever move in with someone again.”
“What, you're not quarantining with the new girlfriend?”
“Zoom dates only for me at the moment,” Charlotte sighs. “What about you? Are you going to hop back on the apps for socially distant dating? They might let us go outside this summer, you know.”
“No,” Shona shakes her head. “My- my therapist thinks I should try being single for a year. I haven't been out of a relationship since I was a teenager so I guess it makes sense.”
Charlotte doesn't gloat about the therapy thing but her grin does widen.
“Told you you needed a 12-step program.”
“Oh, Christ, don't think I'm making amends to you.”
“You can get down on your knees and beg another time.”
Charlotte clears her throat awkwardly as they both flinch.
“Anyway. Therapy, huh? My guy switched to working online with me but he keeps accidentally putting a goofy sunglasses filter on his face. I kind of like it, makes it feel even more anonymous.”
_
“You've described yourself as a serial monogamist to me,” Kate starts the session. “Where did that pattern start, do you think?”
Shona shrugs. “When I was a teenager, probably. It was easier sometimes to get a boyfriend and fall in with his friends than to make friends myself.”
Kate scribbles in her notebook (does she doodle? Shona wonders).
“And Charlotte was your first relationship with a woman?”
“I wouldn't call it a relationship,” Shona protests.
“So you've dated men, exclusively?”
“What, you think because my father died at a formative age, I'm a repressed lesbian?”
Kate gives her a patient look that still manages to convey you said it, not me.
“I think all of us can benefit from interrogating our desires, no matter our sexual or romantic orientation. And for many people adolescence is a time of exploration. But lots of us continue to make discoveries about ourselves, or find that our attractions change with age. What about those relationships with men appealed to you?”
“Stability, I guess. As long as it didn't progress to marriage, I liked the predictability of it all.”
“Predictability can make us feel safe, and sometimes that's what our nervous system needs. What about marriage do you think scared you?”
Shona laughs. “Same as everyone else. Being trapped. Not having a chance to-”
“To?”
“To… be someone different than who I was.”
Kate hums, shuffling her papers.
“Why do you think Charlotte appealed to you?”
Shona looks down at her hands, picking at the cuticles. She needs a new manicure. Maybe Áine can bring her nail varnish at the weekend.
“I want to say it's because she was so spontaneous, and unpredictable, but I don't think that's all of it. She… understood me in a way I felt no one had before. Hell; even in bed, she did.”
“You haven't felt understood by your male partners?”
“Well no, they're men , they'll never fully get what it's like to be a woman.”
Kate pivots her line of questioning. She’d be a good comedian, Shona thinks, what with all the callbacks. But then again she seems too nice and affirming to be actually funny.
“When you talk about Charlotte, you act as though you're also the villain in that story.”
“I clearly broke her heart at the time. That's not exactly benevolent.”
“Didn't she know you and Vish were together before you started seeing her?”
“Well yeah, but-”
Kate crosses her arms, and Shona groans.
“Everyone’s morally grey, you've made your point. Why the hell are you a therapist if you think people are all bad?”
Kate laughs.
“People aren't all bad, but they are often contradictory. And they're also capable of doing better than they have before. We can be the villain in one person’s story and the hero of someone else’s, even within the same day.”
-
“Why did you do it?” Shona asks Charlotte, on one of their now-customary post-business-call FaceTimes.
“Do what?” Charlotte responds distractedly, too busy keeping her cat from eating her newly-acquired pothos.
“Kiss me. The first time, I mean.”
It makes Shona feel sick to even ask, but her therapist has planted all these seeds of doubt that are blooming into a ridiculous need for closure. And at the time, they’d been so busy acting on their attraction that they’d never really processed it, lesbian stereotypes be damned.
“You're hot, I'm hot, seemed like a good idea at the time,” Charlotte quips, but her lip starts doing the little quiver it does when she's lying and they both know it.
“ Charlotte .”
“Look, Shona, every time I hung out with you you mentioned how much you didn't want to get married! I thought- I thought that, if nothing else, I could convince you how stupid an idea it was to accept Vish’s proposal. No offence.”
“Well. That worked out the way you wanted, I suppose.”
Charlotte sighs.
“Are you telling me you honestly wish you were getting married right now?”
“I looked great in that suit,” Shona pouts.
“ Seriously , Shona,” Charlotte pleads, and Shona sighs. They both know the answer; she’s not sure what benefit there is in saying it aloud.
“I hate it when you're right, though, you know that.”
“I distinctly recall smug working for you quite well…”
“ Charlotte.”
“ I know. I'll stop. I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm being such an ass about the whole thing.”
“Talk to your therapist about it.”
“Touché.”
“We were really hot together though, I can admit that,” Shona laughs. “If nothing else.”
Charlotte smiles around the rim of her mug of tea.
“Thanks for saying it.”
“This might sound mad, but I feel like I haven't had agency in my personal life for like… ever, maybe?”
“Well your therapy is clearly taking,” Charlotte laughs, before sobering. “I didn't mean to deprive you of any- I'm sorry for creating more pressure.”
You didn't Shona starts to argue, but no, Charlotte had actually put a tremendous amount of pressure on her with the timing of the first kiss, and everything that had followed. It kind of blows her mind to hear someone else say it out loud, like she hasn’t been imagining everything all along.
“I accept your apology. Hey, do you want to hear my cover of “Dancing Queen” on the bodhran? I'm pretty proud of it.”
“Not like I have anything else better to do,” Charlotte stretches, settling in for the performance of a lifetime.
-
“... and that was the first, and only time I slept with a man,” Charlotte does a little bow on her end of the phone as she finishes her story, and for the first time in a long time, Shona has good tears streaming down her face, the kind from laughing too hard.
(Her therapist would say “there are no bad tears,” and give her a sticker for showing any emotions but she’s not back in therapy til Tuesday, so fuck her.)
Their guffaws are interrupted by a knock on the door and Áine yelling “Hello, ma’am? I got a call about a manicure emergency?”
Shona opens the door, keeping Charlotte on the phone.
“Sorry, I forgot Áine was coming over— Áine, say hi to Charlotte.”
“Hi to Charlotte,” Áine sing-songs.
“Áine, Hi!” Charlotte beams. “I’ve heard the business is doing amazing— congrats!”
“Ah, yeah, the world’s misfortune is my fortune, I suppose. But yeah, work is good! Have you gone crazy from the zoom of it all yet?”
“Hard to go crazy when you started there, innit?” Charlotte jokes, and everybody laughs, like that’s allowed now, they’re all in this therapy-going-fucked-up-head-club.
“Anyhow, I’ll let you two take care of your very important sister-bubble-business. Have a good night,” Charlotte waves, manipulating her cat’s paw as well into a tiny goodbye before hanging up.
Shona sets her phone on the table and pats a spot on the couch for Áine, but she’s giving her a funny look.
“What? Do I have something on my face? Surely Charlotte would’ve said something, she’s not that petty.”
Áine shrugs, exaggeratedly nonchalant.
“I didn’t realise you two were that close anymore.”
“Jesus, Áine, we’re friends. Is that allowed? Can I have one friend who’s not my baby sister?”
“I don’t think people glow like that when they talk to their friends, but we don’t have to get into it…”
Shona scoffs.
“You’ve clearly never seen you and Bradley together.”
“I don’t think you’re making the point you’re trying to,” Áine mutters.
“Excuse me?”
“Not important. Did you want Aubergine Dream or Cherry Lips.”
“Oooh, you know I love Garbage.”
“So much you had a poster of Shirley Manson on your wall all throughout high school, what a fan girl.” There’s an edge to Áine tonight, some grudge that Shona hasn’t the slightest idea where it came from rearing its ugly head.
“You’re in a mood tonight. What’s that about?”
Áine looks at her nails, painstakingly adding purple streaks one at a time.
“It’s just. I know it’s immature of me, and like, not fair or whatever, but I can’t help but feel like you were hiding something from me, like you didn’t trust me, you know?”
“I thought we’d moved past the affair stuff,” Shona puts the back of her hand to her forehead, careful not to get nail varnish stuck to her hair.
“Not the affair , just like… I don’t know, would it have been so hard to tell me you were into women? Like, I’m a really good wing woman, you know, and I’ve been to loads of gay bars, I even won drag bingo once—”
“Áine. Is it really that hard to believe that I’m such an idiot I didn’t put the pieces together myself until I’d lost everything?”
“I mean, yeah , Shona, you’re the smartest person I know. Why wouldn’t I think you were being devious and sneaky instead of absurdly thick?”
Shona laughs, but it’s pitiful and defeated.
“I had other things to deal with, you know?”
“Well, there’s room in your schedule now. For self-discovery or whatever. And for what it’s worth I think you’d make a crackin’ lesbian. Or bisexual. Or pansexual. Or sexually fluid person.”
“Jesus, you’ll be the first person I text when the label’s official. Calm down.”
“Okay, but, like, I did find a really good list of films and television shows with queer female leads, if you want to marathon.”
“I get the feeling it’s not really a question.”
“We can find you a new celebrity crush! It’ll be fun!”
“Fine. But nothing set in a women’s prison or involving sport.”
_
“I loved my dad, but he was kind of a dick sometimes, you know?”
Kate continues to scratch away at the great notepad of mysterious therapist notes.
“Most of us are.”
“I mean, Áine was young enough, maybe she doesn’t remember, but he would literally hide from us, from his family. Just lock himself in the shed or wherever, barely come up for dinner. And I know, I know he was struggling, he was hurting, but all I wanted was for him to spend time with us and he couldn’t even do that.”
Kate nods.
“I think it can be true both that your father had a lot of pain, and that you deserved better from him.”
“And then, of course you can’t complain after someone dies, right? Because that makes you a monster, but you know, he really did find the ultimate fucking way of running away from us. Bastard.”
“Anger is a valid response to loss.”
“I'm still so mad at him, I know I shouldn't be, and I know you're going to say ‘ don't should on yourself,’ but-”
“-There’s a lot of social pressure to not speak ill of the dead. I think that can impede the grieving process, certainly. Having loved your father doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt you.”
“I dunno, I guess that’s why I kept making all those safe boring choices. I’ve had enough abandonment already. I didn’t want to feel that hurt and anger again. It was miserable.”
“And now?”
Shona laughs.
“You mean, now that Vish has abandoned me and I rejected Charlotte out of hand? Yeah, still bad. Not a fan.”
“Do you think you might have the skills and resources to let yourself feel those emotions more now than when you were a teenager, just trying to survive?”
Shona takes a slow, deep breath out through her nostrils (one of the bullshit grounding techniques Kate has taught her that annoyingly works).
“You’re going to tell me I do, I’m sure.”
“Well, you’re talking about what you’re going through. That seems like a big step to me.”
“Still haven’t talked to my mum about it, though. That’s a common thread. I’ve been avoiding her calls for weeks now.”
“Do you want to talk to her?”
“No, clearly not. She’d just tell me how much better she likes Vish than me, don’t really need that insult added to injury. But I can’t ignore her forever.”
“Can you set a boundary with her preemptively? Either limit the length of your call or designate certain topics off-limits?”
“You’ve not met my mother, Kate. She’s never met a boundary she didn’t break.”
“All the more reason to hold your ground.”
“I’ll… attempt it. But if this is just your way to keep giving me things to talk about in therapy so I keep coming back, I’m onto you.”
“Try it, and I promise we won’t spend more than ten minutes processing next week. Good work, Shona.”
_
“Mammy. We can talk about anything and everything other than me and Vish, then I’m yours as long as you want. Can you agree to that?”
Her mother holds the phone at such an angle that only half of her face is in view, but getting her to fix it would be more effort than trying to discern her expressions with incomplete data, as it stands.
“Listen, Shona, we’ve had bigger things to deal with here. A whole flock of sheep got let loose and wreaked havoc on Aoife’s garden. She’s spent years cultivating those roses and now they’re ruined. It’s a tragedy, I’ll tell ya…”
Shona’s mind wanders as her mother regales her with all the latest gossip from her neighbourhood (she’s finally figured out grocery delivery and has a designated favourite driver). Mammy would much rather have an audience to her monologue than grill Shona on her failures as a woman. Desperate times, etc.
“I mean, this is what living alone does to you, isn’t it? How are you holding up, Sho?”
There it is.
“I’m fine,” Shona grimaces. “I actually enjoy living alone, and I know how to work my smart phone and laptop so I talk to other people as much as I want.”
“But surely you must miss having Vish—”
“—Watch it—” She frowns. Not that her mother’s looking at the phone screen.
“I mean, you and Áine are looking after each other, though, right? I just can’t bear knowing my babies are out there all alone.”
“We’re fine , Mammy. We’re in each other’s bubbles, or whatever. And the parks are back open again so you know, we’re not fully withering away.”
“Well you do know I love you,” her mother insists, as if that blanket statement excuses all her mistakes as a parent over the years. Would she have to insist it so vehemently if it were self-evidently true?
This is why Shona doesn’t want to have kids, it’s just the opportunity to pass down trauma to another generation. No thanks.
“I love you too, Mammy. I’m sorry for not calling earlier.”
“I really just do want you and your sister both to be happy, Shona. I mean, I want grandchildren as much as any mother, but not at your expense. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. You’re my daughter and I love you. And Áine still has plenty of years to give me a grandbaby—”
“Okay, have a good weekend, Mammy.”
Shona flops back dramatically on her bed as she hangs up the phone (she misses the era of flip phones, when the act of ending a call had more finality).
hello i just talked to my mother for the first time in a month would you like to put me out of my misery, she texts Charlotte.
Glad to hear it went that well!
Jk
Mums are tough.
If it makes you feel better, my son is avoiding me 🙁
She sends a photo of her cat basking in the sun, pointedly facing away from her.
tell noodles that you won’t be here forever and someday he’ll feel really guilty for meeting his own needs
I can’t believe you still call him that
one thing about me, i’ll always run a joke into the ground
and it’s still funny (to me)
Anyways, i’m trying this evolved thing where i respect his space, but let him know how much i appreciate him wanting to spend time with me on his own terms .
speaking of… do you want to like… go for a walk or something? not now, but sometime? It’s weird talking to you all day at work and outside of work but not seeing you in person *shrug emoji*
Sunday in the park with George?
(That’s the cat’s name, George. I know you don’t actually know it, you asshole.)
_
“Oh my god, you weren’t kidding about George.”
Charlotte saunters up, her cat leading the way in his harness. They’re a matched pair, long and lean and graceful. It’s ridiculous.
“Oh, I’ve fully trÁined him to go on walks with me. It’s a new era, baby.”
“I take it back, I’m not sure I can be seen with you in public like this. It’s too much.”
Charlotte laughs, and Shona feels it echo in her chest, light and buoyant.
“Should we hug? Is that okay?”
“Are you talking about covid or…” Shona hesitates. To be in Charlotte’s presence is to remember she’s alive, like her cells all respond in unison. Even outside, on a breezy day, six feet apart, Shona’s body remembers hers.
Charlotte smiles, but her eyes are a little sad.
“Best not to risk it, huh?”
“Can’t be too safe in times like these,” Shona nods.
“Right, so, tell me about your mother, how’s things in Ireland?”
“Oh, you know, we’ve abandoned her to die alone but she did finally figure out Deliveroo so she won’t starve just yet.”
“My parents have become sourdough people, and think I want constant updates on their starter.”
“What insane hobby have you picked up to cope?”
“You’re looking at it.”
George rolls on his back, stretching out in the grass.
“I spent an hour trying a headstand the other day. I dunno why, just thought my flat might look more interesting upside down.”
“And?”
“I’m really fucking bad at headstands, turns out.”
Charlotte chuckles and they walk in companionable silence.
“I’ve missed you,” she murmurs, after another lap around the park, George taking in the sights amiably.
“Me, too. I mean, I know we’ve only been friends for what— two years now? But it’s like I can’t imagine my life without you. Is that weird?”
“I know what you mean, yeah,” Charlotte nods. “I’ve been doing these awful zoom game nights with some of my old friends from uni, and it’s so weird to remember how close we were, and how far apart we feel like now. I mean, I guess it’s better than having no social interaction at all, but damn, it feels like work.”
“God, the further away I get from when the wedding would have been, the more I’m like… I can’t believe I wanted these people in my bridal party. We have nothing in common. It’s hard to believe we ever did.”
Charlotte looks away, at a tree, or the sky, or something that isn’t Shona, because that would be too much, right now.
“I’m glad we’re okay. I wasn’t sure we ever would be again, you know?”
Shona nods, swallowing down an unbidden lump in her throat.
You look beautiful in this light, she wants to say.
“Therapy works wonders, huh?”
_
“Is it unethical to wank about an ex?”
“Good afternoon to you too, Shona,” Kate deadpans. “Cutting straight to the chase today, I see.”
“Well, it’s an urgent matter.”
“Talk me through your thought process.”
“Okay, but you’re ,like, the boundaries and interpersonal ethics expert. Isn’t there a rule of thumb for this sort of thing?”
“I’m assuming you’re not using photos or videos without someone’s permission?”
Shona shakes her head.
“There’s often a disconnect between what we think about when we masturbate and what we actually want in our sex life.”
“Jesus, that’s clinical.”
“You did ask for a clinical opinion.”
“Okay, well… what if I’m not sure if I’m still actually attracted to this person.”
Kate schools her face, but they both know she’s talking about Charlotte. Shona will not say her name today, that’s for damn sure.
(She said it out loud alone in her flat. Last night. Twice. That’s mortification enough.)
“Do you think this person would be uncomfortable with you fantasising about them?”
“That’s a great fucking question,” Shona sighs. “Sometimes I think— it doesn’t matter, I’m the one that ended things.”
“I don’t think you’re doing anything definitively wrong by fantasising about an ex,” Kate continues, “but I wonder if it serves you to think about this person in that way.”
“How am I not supposed to think about her— them ?” I mean, I can’t just cut them out of my life, but it’s like every time I try to… unwind… that’s the first place my mind goes.”
“Self-harm doesn’t always have to look like physical injury. Sometimes we hurt ourselves because we think we deserve it, or we want to punish ourselves for a past mistake.”
“If I only ever think about one person in bed, does that make me gay?” Shona steamrolls over the self-flagellation line of inquiry.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Well… she’s a woman. And I haven’t wanked about any of my male exes, nor have I wanted to in the slightest.”
(She’s still not going to say her name today, dammit.)
“It might make you a lesbian. It might not. How do you feel about those labels?”
“Tired.”
Kate laughs.
“Fair enough. Let me rephrase. Would it make you, Shona, as a person, fundamentally change if you decided to take on one of those labels, be it gay, or bi, or queer?”
“This seems like one of those leading questions where the answer is obviously no, I’m still me, pride parade or no,” Shona rolls her eyes.
“And yet, it could change everything.”
“I don’t even like finance, you know. I’m not sure anyone does, except sociopaths. We like power, or having money, but no one in my industry wakes up in the morning feeling like they’re genuinely making the world a better place. I mean, even with our new firm, we’re trying to do things more ethically, but it’s still empowering the rich at the expense of the poor.”
“It sounds like you’re re-evaluating a lot of things about your life at the moment.”
“Well, yeah, of bloody course I am. The world’s falling apart, people are dying, and I’m moving numbers in a spreadsheet. And wanking about my ex. Whom I do bullshit finance work with. I’m not thriving , Kate.”
“Shona, in the six months we’ve been working together, you’ve demonstrated incredible growth. You’re honest with yourself. You set boundaries with your family. You ask for help. You may not be thriving, yet, but you’re growing. “
“I hate it. I really do.”
“But you keep showing up and doing the work. That’s commendable.”
“It’s clicking a button on my computer, Kate. It’s not running a marathon.”
“We’ve still got room for improvement in accepting praise, I see. Tell me, what made you decide to branch out on your own, with Charlotte?”
She did it. That bitch said her name. The nerve.
_
“Now that you’re rolling in cash, I can rely on you to take care of Mammy in her old age, yeah?” Shona asks Áine, blowing on her nail polish to make it dry faster. (They’re doing toes today, not that anyone’s gallivanting about barefoot in November, but it’s a change of pace.)
“Oh god, Shona, you’re not joining a cult are you? They prey on people who are looking for stability after upheaval, don’t fall for it. Didn’t I send you that Leah Remini show on Scientology?”
“I’m not joining a cult, Áine. Calm down. I just think I might… take a break from work for a minute.”
“Inpatient? But you’ve been making such progress!”
“No, I’m not going in hospital or anything. I just. I don’t think I can work with Charlotte anymore.”
“What did she do?” Áine gasps. “ I’ll kill her .”
Shona sighs.
“Have you ever wanked about Bradley?”
“Wanked, no. Sex dream, yes,” Áine answers automatically before screwing up her face in disgust. “ Wait— we’re talking about you! Stop asking me questions about Bradley! Besides, you two actually had sex so it’s not as weird— nope, I’m sorry Sho, I love you but I think maybe this is my boundary on sisterly support.”
“Well imagine how weird I feel seeing her every day.”
“Yeah, no, I get that. And like, for the record, if you were wanking about Vish I also wouldn’t want to hear it, I’m not being homophobic. In fact, I’d probably be more grossed out.”
“Cool. Thanks. Anyways, I’m still in love with her and I’m not gonna get over it with things as they are, so I was thinking of like, making a total career change and never seeing her again.”
“Have you talked to your therapist about it?”
“Well, she says that it’s a self-harm behaviour to force myself to keep spending time around her.”
“Pretty sure that doesn’t mean quit your job, Sho,” Áine squints. “Besides you talk to her even more than you do me, not even counting work,” Áine frowns.
“And therein lies the problem.”
Áine sighs, exasperated.
“I mean, if you want to work for me we could really use someone who actually knows how money works.”
“Honestly, yes, at this point I would consider it.”
“ Jesus , Sho, when did it get this bad?”
“I think… I’ve been working on compartmentalising less, and feeling my feelings, you know, all that water sign shit you do, and um, yeah, there’s a lot of feelings there.”
“You know, when you first met her, I thought, wow, Shona has a crush , but you know I thought it was a girl crush, not a girl crush, but yeah, huh. So you’re in like, capital L love , okay.”
“She kind of ruined my life, Áine.”
“Hey, give yourself some credit!”
“Anyways, that’s where I’m at.”
“You know, Sho,” Áine prods gently, shrugging her shoulders up to her ears like a turtle retreating into its shell, “You could try talking about this stuff with Charlotte?”
Shona glares daggers at her.
“I would literally rather die.”
“Seriously? You’re going to just abandon something you’ve worked really hard on because you’re too embarrassed to tell her how you actually feel?”
“It’s too late, I already fucked it up! She’s moved on, as rightly she should.”
“Has she? Because you two keep making any excuse to be around each other, and you already work together forty hours a week. If it were one-sided I don’t think I would’ve gotten second billing on taking you out for your birthday.”
“She’s just being a good friend. She’s really evolved like that. It’s annoying. And also endearing. Ugh.”
Áine shrugs.
“She might still wank about you. But you won’t know until you ask. Ew. I can’t believe I just said that. Gross.”
“Fuck off.”
“We’re not talking about my wanking, Shona! Stop deflecting!”
_
“Um, so, listen,” Shona starts, as she and Charlotte leave their (masked, air purified, negative-tested) last big meeting of the year. “I was thinking that I might take a bit of a break after the holidays.”
“I should be able to handle the January meetings solo, sure, but you’ll be back for the Galentine’s Day networking event, yeah?”
“No, I mean, maybe a permanent break? From the firm?”
Charlotte stops, leaning against the wall, crossing her arms, daring Shona to be honest with her for once.
“What on earth are you on about? This,” she gestures to the big glass windows, the photos and logos that adorn the walls, “ was all your idea.”
“I know, I just— I don’t think I can work with you anymore? It’s a me thing, so it should be me that goes, and no hard feelings, I just think I have to do this.”
Charlotte pauses and the look behind her eyes changes several times, as if she’s typing and deleting a message from her brain to her mouth.
“Have I done something to upset you? I thought we’d worked through our shit, yeah?”
“No, you’ve been brilliant , honestly. Too brilliant, maybe.” Shona sighs, looking away, down the hall at Julie at her desk. Thank god the masks prevent lip reading. “You know this all began as an excuse to get you to hang out with me?”
Charlotte snorts.
“I’m flattered.”
“I’m not even kidding. I met you and I just… knew I had to be around you, and I didn’t understand it, but I couldn’t fight it, and then when you kissed me… it suddenly all made sense. It was inevitable, I think.”
Charlotte blushes, ever so slightly visible above the edges of her mask, but doesn’t interrupt. And it validates Shona in her decision, that there’s no way she can continue to be around Charlotte and see the colour rise to her cheeks and not have decidedly unprofessional thoughts.
“And I know that I broke things off, I know that I fucked everything up, and I take responsibility for that, for complicating things. And I know that you’ve moved on, but I can’t seem to, and it just doesn’t seem fair to myself to show up every day in a situation where I’m breaking my own heart. Life’s too short, you know?”
Charlotte nods, slowly, but her eyes are vacant, her arms wrap around herself as if to shield her body from Shona’s words. She feels like a real dick.
“Would you be willing to sleep on it? At least until the New Year? No one’s going to read an email until January, anyways.”
“I’ve already thought about it plenty—”
“Just. Please. Give me the courtesy of a full month’s notice.”
Shona shrinks into herself, but nods.
“I can do that. I’m sorry.”
She thought the clean break would make her feel better, but all she can manage to do is hold in the tears until she gets home, then it’s full body sobs in the shower until she’s hiccuping and snotting everywhere.
It’s fine, Shona’s always hated Christmas, anyhow. All the better to be miserable until Spring.
She manages to sleep somehow, and wakes up on the 23rd to her phone ringing and Charlotte’s smiling contact photo on the screen.
She sends it to voicemail.
It’s my birthday, you asshole, pick up. Charlotte texts immediately, followed by:
Or I’m coming over there, and you probably look like shit.
“What?” Shona answers wearily the next time her phone rings.
“Meet me at the park in an hour.”
“I’m truly not fit for human consumption, Charlotte.”
“Would you rather face me in public or have me get Áine to give me her spare key and I come to you? Because you know damn well she would.”
“No she wouldn't, she's too loyal— actually, no, yeah, she would. Fuck. Fine. I’ll grab coffee on the way over.”
Shona’s hands shake as she carries the coffees to the bench where Charlotte’s sat, glowering, but she manages not to spill.
“I’m really angry with you,” Charlotte starts, accepting the coffee without making eye contact. “Which isn’t actually how I wanted to spend my birthday.”
“I have a knack for shit timing. I’m sorry.”
“Why is it that you always get to make unilateral decisions about our relationship without any input from me?”
“What do you mean?” Shona frowns.
“Well, you dumped me the first time without consulting me at all in the matter, and now you’re in love with me, but it’s also not my problem, don’t worry about it, you’re just going to run away again. Coward.”
“I’m not a— I’m trying to set healthier boundaries!”
“Have you consulted your therapist on this move? Has she told you you’re an idiot?”
“We’re taking a break for the holidays,” Shona mumbles into her coffee lid.
“I haven’t moved on,” Charlotte continues, staring straight ahead. Shona watches her breath in the air. It’s bitingly cold out, and the park is mostly deserted, people having given up on outdoor socialising given the weather. “That’s why it didn’t work out with the woman I was seeing— that, and the pandemic, but me being hung up on someone else didn’t make it worth the extra effort.”
“Oh.” Shona feels like she’s going to vomit. Or pass out. Or maybe vomit whilst passing out.
“I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to steamroll you like I did the first time we were together, but seeing as you decided to abandon ship, it seemed like a good time to speak up.”
“Still, having an affair isn’t a way to run a business. What if it ends even worse than last time?”
Charlotte turns to look at her, shaking her head in exasperation.
“Why would it be an affair? You’re not engaged anymore.”
“Yeah, but,” Shona shrugs.
“Are you in love with me, or do you only get off on sneaking around?” Charlotte crosses her legs imperiously.
“I’m not brave like you.”
“You started a financial firm from nothing, in a male dominated industry, taking a risk on yourself. You’re brave , Shona, when you’re not chickenshit .”
Shona practises her silly little breathing exercises, trying her best not to leave her body at this moment, waiting for Charlotte to continue because she doesn’t trust her own voice not to break.
“If we did this right, out in the open, why couldn’t it work?”
“Because I’m me,” Shona laughs. “Sooner or later you’d want more and I’d disappoint you and then, what? We’re just as bad off as we are now, only we’ve wasted more time.”
“I’ve never regretted a moment I spent with you,” Charlotte mumbles, looking down. “I don’t want to regret not trying.”
“What does trying look like, then? Compared to failing the first time around.”
“Well, I’d like to be someone you’re not ashamed of, for one.”
“I’m not ashamed of you — of myself, maybe.”
“You realise that still reflects negatively on me, though, right? If you’re ashamed of being in a relationship with a woman, and I’m that woman? That feels like shit?”
“I’m working on it, I promise,” Shona nods.”And if there was anyone in the world I’d be proud to be with it would be you, alright?”
“I’m not saying you have to ring your mum immediately, or whatever, but yeah, I’d like for you to tell her eventually. I don’t need you to go to pride with me but maybe you could hold my hand in public.”
“Once the pandemic’s over, of course.”
“Naturally,” Charlotte sniffs.
“It hasn’t been a year yet since Vish and I split.” Shona worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Would you be willing to wait until March to make things official?”
“I wasn’t planning to kiss you again until we could both get vaccinated.”
“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
“What can I say? I’m a Capricorn.”
“I didn’t get you a birthday present,” Shona frowns. “I’m already fucking up being a girlfriend.”
“That’s not too bad a gift,” Charlotte smiles, uncharacteristically shy. “You know what?” She laughs. “If we’re not sneaking around anymore, treating our relationship as just a boring fact? Julie might actually get some fucking work done.”
“I can’t argue with that logic,” Shona chuckles.
_
Áine comes over for Christmas and they FaceTime their mother and cousins. It’s stilted and awkward and better than nothing.
“Okay, well, I’m ready for a coma,” Áine yawns after they hang up.
“I have to tell you something,” Shona spits out, afraid she’ll lose her nerve.
“About Charlotte? Because she already messaged me about getting your spare key so she could yell at you about being an idiot. Did you sort your shit out finally?”
“You could have at least let me have the big reveal moment,” Shona pouts.
“I do like her, you know,” Áine continues, not even letting Shona enjoy a well-earned sulk. “I’ve forgiven the Freddie shit, and she’s good for you, I think.”
“Do you have the flat to yourself? Is Bradley at Emma’s again?”
“Theybrokeup,” Áine mumbles.
“Just in time for New Year’s too, huh? You going to have a night in with the roomie?” Shona teases.
“No, no, we’re talking about your happily-ever-after here, Shona.”
“Do you really think it could be? God, that’s terrifying.”
“Shut up, you and Charlotte would totally be sexy old ladies together. With your cats and pant suits and whatnot.”
“Okay, that feels like stereotyping.”
“She has a cat, Shona! It’s not a stereotype if it’s a literal fact! God, I try to be supportive and affirming and this is the thanks I get.”
_
“Is it a mistake, trying to get back together with Charlotte?” Shona dives in, once she and Kate have gotten through the customary beginning-of-the-year smalltalk.
“I don’t know Charlotte myself, I only know what you’ve told me about her,” Kate observes. “I do know that you’re in a much different place than you were the last time you two had a relationship. For one, you wouldn’t have called your first foray a relationship at all. What are your concerns?”
“I don’t want it to be a rebound.”
“It sounds like you’re both intentionally taking your time in order to prevent that outcome. Do you feel like Charlotte is a way to get over Vish?”
Shona shakes her head.
“I think, if anything, she might be, like, it for me. And that’s a lot scarier.”
“Fear of commitment is common for a reason.”
Shona laughs.
“It’s not even the commitment I fear. It’s the fact that it could be over, forever , at any moment.”
“Is that a reason not to try?”
“Well, yes, obviously, or I wouldn’t bring it up.”
Kate smiles, used to Shona’s pushback by now.
“Is she worth the risk of that hurt? Only you know the answer to that question. From what you’ve told me, directly and indirectly, she’s one of the most important people in your life.”
“What if it doesn’t work out, though?”
Kate shrugs.
“What if it does?”
_
can i be transparent with you? Shona texts Charlotte at 00:39 on February 14th.
that’s our thing these days, isn’t it?
i thought about you… a lot… after we broke up. while i was still with vish… after… now…
thought about? or t h o u g h t a b o u t?
whichever one involves touching myself
(Her therapist said no *dating* for a year. Sexting seems fine, honestly, if Charlotte’s up for it. Besides, it’s covid-safe. It’s basically the responsible thing to do.)
I can’t believe you’re trying to kill me before I even get vaccinated.
But thank you for assuaging my guilt about doing the same.
Shona feels her whole body flush at Charlotte’s admission. The knowledge that Charlotte was thinking about her half as much as she’d thought about Charlotte makes her stomach drop and her heart pound.
i miss feeling you against me
I miss the sounds you make when you’re trying not to come
Shona has half a mind to send a voice note, but, given how that worked out last time, she’ll err on the side of caution.
every time i look at your hands i want you inside of me
I want to feel you squeeze around me until you’re dripping down my wrist
Frankly, Shona’s impressed at both of their abilities to type one-handed, but two earth signs were never going to send grammatically incorrect dirty messages to one another. Charlotte’s lack of punctuation is the only indication she’s as affected as Shona is.
we’re going to need the full two weeks to quarantine together. i have plans for you.
You’d fucking better.
_
Charlotte gets her shot first, because apparently depression counts as an underlying health condition and considering how many people are refusing to get a vaccine at all, there’s plenty to go around, so she’s hardly depriving anyone.
“I don’t care if I’m achy and delirious, the moment I get mine, I’m tying you to my bed.”
“They take two weeks to kick in, Shona,” Charlotte scolds.
“Well you’ll be safe then, that’s what matters.”
“I also don’t want you to die, you bitch.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re selfish?”
“Shut up. I am feeling pretty beat, though, if I’m not up for phone sex will you still think I’m hot?”
“I would actually love to just… phone cuddle, or whatever. Just to hear your voice. Ew.”
“Wow, Shona, keep it up and I’ll be convinced you actually like me.”
“You’re an ass.”
“Mmhmm.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Shona sighs.
“It was kind of nice.”
“Get used to it.”
_
Shona does come out to her mother, though not quite as planned.
True to her word, Charlotte sees her through her vaccine recovery, and they quickly transition from hydrating and resting to more vigorous activities.
Mammy facetimes as Charlotte is in the kitchen making coffee, and while Shona aims for the hangup button, her hand slips and she accidentally answers. It’s a small miracle that she’s fully covered by the bedsheet, at least.
“Shit,” Shona hisses. “Mammy! I’m sorry, I’m just totally wiped out from the vaccine, I’m not sure how long I can talk,”
“Listen, Shona, they’re opening up travel from Ireland to the UK in July, I was wondering when I could come see you and Áine—”
“Were you hungry, Shona?” Charlotte calls from the kitchen, and Mammy’s eyes narrow.
“I wasn’t aware you had company, dear.”
“ Christ on a fucking cracker ,” Shona groans. “Mammy, you remember Charlotte, that I work with?”
Charlotte pauses in the doorway, holding two mugs of coffee and her mouth frozen in permanent Oh, Shit territory. At least she’s wearing a long t-shirt.
Shona mouths “It’s fine, really,” and gestures for her to come sit next to her on the bed, while her mother nods slowly.
“We’re not just business partners…”
“Well,” her mother clears her throat, buying them both time. “I expect I’ll get to meet her properly this summer, then?”
“I’d be delighted,” Charlotte beams, and Shona can’t help but gaze adoringly at her.
“Then I’ll let you get back to your… lovenesting.”
“Thanks, Mammy. And sorry. And I love you. And sorry, again, really.”
“Shona, I’ve worked in show business half my life, I’m not nearly as old-fashioned as you think,” her mother huffs. “Charlotte, you know with modern medicine, it’s easier for lesbians to have families than ever before—”
“Alright, Mammy, save it for in-person at least, yeah?”
Shona manages to hold it together until she successfully gets her mother off of the phone, then she and Charlotte collapse into a pile of screaming laughter.
“You gotta hand it to her, the woman will make it about giving her grandchildren no matter what, fucking hell.”
“Moms love me, Shona, seriously. It’s gonna be fine.”
“Alright, when do I get to humiliatingly meet your parents, then? Turnabout’s fair play.”
“We’re not close like your family,” Charlotte laughs. “If someone dies or gets married, maybe that will be the occasion.”
“Wow, funeral date, huh? You are serious about me.”
“From the moment I met you,” Charlotte shrugs.
“You looked at me and said… there’s just something about that woman. I need to mourn with her.”
“What can I say?” Charlotte grins. “It’s a kink of mine.”
Shona smiles, snuggling in closer to Charlotte. She smells like sweat and sex and cinnamon. Shona feels safer than she’s ever felt in her life.
“I’m gonna be so fucking sad when you die.”
“Oh yeah?” Charlotte faux-husks, leaning into the (admittedly bad) bit. “ Tell me about it .”
“Absolutely devastated. Gutted. Wrecked. Consumed entirely by grief.”
“And yet, you’re still here in this bed with me, post-coitally talking with your mother.”
“Mmmm,” Shona hums. “My therapist is gonna be so proud of me.”
“As well she should,” Charlotte agrees. “No offence to her, though, but I think I’d rather not think about her for the moment.” Her hands travel from Shona’s stomach lower, and soon enough they forget everything in the world but themselves and each other.
_
“I’m not sure I deserve to feel happy,” Shona frowns, twisting her rings.
“Why?” Kate asks, like it’s not obvious.
“I mean, I cheated on my ex-fiancé and I come out of it in the best relationship of my life? It doesn’t pass the sniff test. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Paradoxical as it might sound, I think the fact that you feel remorse means you’re on the right track. If things hadn’t worked out as they have, would you and Vish have been happy, do you think?”
Shona laughs.
“No, I’d probably be having panic attacks every day about having children, and locking myself in the bathroom to scream in the shower just to have personal space. We’d resent each other eventually, I know it. And I really do hope he finds someone who suits him perfectly. He is a great guy, even if I wasn’t great for him.”
“All we can do is move forward from our mistakes. You’re good enough, Shona, just as you are.”
“That seems like blanket permission to keep fucking up, you know, like the born-again Christians who use being saved as an excuse to be an asshole to everyone.”
“Humour me. Practise saying it again. Fake it until you make it, et cetera.”
Shona takes a deep breath and sets her shoulders back.
“I’m good enough.”
She’s beginning to believe it.