Page 119 of Sad Girl Hours
I told them how they’ve made me feel. And I told them that, for a while at least, I wanted to go no contact with them. At leastuntil we figured out what kind of relationship with each other will make us all happy.
I think I’m starting to be prepared for that to be ‘none’.
I was quite proud of myself – the only thing I apologised for in it was stealing Kenneth.
I didn’t really think about it. I just knew that I wanted him with me. He always made me feel calmer, and taking him out for his walks twice a day is really helpful. He gets me up in the morning, even when I don’t really want to.
But I do understand that he wasn’t technically mine to take, and I will obviously understand if you want me to bring him back, or you want to come and fetch him.
I didn’t get a reply to my letter.
I did, however, get a bill, in my name, for Kenneth’s pet insurance.
Time and therapy (and Nell) have all helped me to realise something. Sometimes the people that are meant to love us decide not to. Or maybe they were never capable of it in the first place. But, either way, that was never my fault.
And I get to keep my boy. So, who’s winning now?
A few weeks later, I’m back in the woods with Nell, the sunlight scattered through the trees and dancing like fairies around us as the breeze makes the leaves bluster above. We’re lying on a gingham picnic blanket – me with my textbooks, her with anotebook and pen, Kenneth thoroughly enjoying chowing down on a stick.
After a while, Nell throws her pen down and wriggles closer to me, peering over at my book.
“What’s that?” she asks, pointing at a Hertzsprung-Russell diagram.
I tell her what it’s called and she pulls a face.
“Respectfully that does not clear things up. Tell me more.”
“All right. So, once we figured out how to tell the temperature of different stars when we started photographing them, we suddenly had so much information, and we weren’t sure what to do with it.”
“We, meaning space gals.”
“Astrophysicists, yes.”
“Continue.”
I laugh. “So, we put it all on a chart, people theorised that it might demonstrate evolution – and they were right. It helped us learn about how stars change over the course of their lifetime, like a red giant turning into a white dwarf.”
Nell props her head on her hands and says, “I love it when you talk space to me.”
“Shut up,” I say through another laugh.
“I mean it,” she insists. “You’re never hotter than when you’re talking about something you really care about. Which is usually nerdy space stuff.”
“Usually but not always.” I meet her eyes with a swift grin; she meets my lips with a brush of her own.
“You’re cute.”
“Shut up,” I say again. “Or, actually, don’t shut up. Just tell me what you were working on.”
“All right.” She grabs her notebook. “Surprise, surprise, I was working on a poem.”
“Unprecedented.”
“I know, right?” Nell joins in on the bit. “Who’d have thought I had it in me?”
“Stanza Press must do,” I say, unable to stop myself from beaming with pride. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be publishing your collection.”
“Maybe,” she says, not managing to hide the excitement and pride on her own face.
