Page 110 of Sad Girl Hours
“How is Nell?” I ask quietly.
“She’s sad,” Jenna says. “But she’s all right. Her poetry collection got shortlisted for the award.”
“It did?” I say eagerly. “That’s so great!” I feel my face fall, though, as I remember the first half of what she just said. Nell is sad because of me. I messed things up so badly with her.
“You look just like Nell has these last couple of days,” Vivvie observes. “I don’t know what happened between you two but, good Lord, you’re both being mopey bitches about it.”
Casper nods at that. Jenna looks as though she’s biting her tongue. I’m guessing, unlike the others, she knows the full story.
“I don’t want to talk about what happened, but I don’t blame her for hating me.”
“Nell doesn’t hate you, you idiot. She loves you,” Vivvie says fiercely. “You want to believe she hates you because it serves your self-hating narrative, but that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
I think she sees the shock in my expression.
“Look, I’m sorry to be so frank, but also I’m not sorry at all. It’s tough-love time, baby. Nell loves you. You love her. Stop messing her around and justbe together.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“It can be,” Jenna says. “Sometimes we get scared, sure. Letting yourself be loved is really scary, especially if you don’t feel as though you deserve it. ButNellthinks you deserve it, and you can decide that that’s good enough until you realise it too.”
I want to say again that it’s not as simple as that but I don’t like to be redundant, and also my mum is coming up the stairs.
“Right,” she announces, “I’ve given you five minutes. Now get the hell out.”
“Gladly.” Vivvie scowls at her before turning to me. “Coming, Saffron?”
Mum’s eyes snap to me but she doesn’t say anything. The silence is almost scarier in a way.
Jenna and Casp are looking at me too, waiting hopefully for my response.
The weight of having all their eyes on me is making me want to scream.
“No.” The word comes out quiet, like I’m ashamed of it. I am a bit. “I can’t come.”
All of my friends appear to deflate.
“Fine,” Vivvie says with a sense of finality that makes something inside me curl up and die. “I assume we’ll see you soon when you come for the rest of your things.”
They turn away. Casper looks to my mother. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for the use of your facilities? It was a long drive down here and—” He cuts himself off, seeing the annoyance flashing in her eyes. “Never mind.”
“If you change your mind,” Jenna directs to me, “just let us know.”
I manage a nod before they all turn to go downstairs. My eyes follow them leaving like I’m watching a funeral procession.
My mother goes down with them, presumably to make sure they do, in fact, leave and that they don’t make off with any of the silverware.
I close the door to try to deter my mum from coming back up to speak to me, to tell me how rude my friends were and berate me for keeping such company or anything like that.
I don’t want to hear any of that. Not when they drove all this way just to check on me. Not when they’re driving all the way back up, having failed in their mission to bring me with them.
Guilt flares at my sternum. They’ve driven so far for nothing.
Vivvie would say that I’m feeling guilty because that serves the narrative of hating myself. And I’m not sure she’s wrong. I do tell myself certain things – or the depression does anyway – and I let those things guide my actions.
I don’t know if I’ve ever done anything when I’ve been feeling like this because I thought it was good for me or even just because I wanted to.
No, I think. That’s not true. I kissed Nell. I did that because I wanted to, not for any other reason. I wanted to so badly.
