Page 74 of Sad Girl Hours
“Um … sure. As you wish, I guess.”
He sounds confused and I don’t blame him. If I wasn’t so focused on Saffron, I would have leapt off this thing rather than overpaying to go on another horrifying journey.
“Where were we?” I say. “Ah, yes, you were saying that I can’t know that I would never hate you.”
“Um, yes. I was. Everyone else in my life has. What would make you guys any different?”
“Firstly, I’m not like everyone else,” I say. “Never have been, never will be. Secondly, because welove you. Not just because we say it but because we mean it. Unconditionally. If you kill a man, I’m there with the shovel and to say that whoever it was must have deserved it. If you’re feeling low and can’t get out of bed, I’ll bring you … I don’t know, soup? Or other liquids of your choosing. And I’ll lie next to you just to keep you company. Wewouldn’t have to say anything. We could just, I don’t know … be.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Saffron
It sounds perfect. Minus the being depressed part. Nell is just …she’sperfect. And yes, I’m feeling more than a modicum of guilt at laying this all on her, but I’m also feeling… Well. Other things.
“Thank you,” I say. “You’re being so kind.”
Nell shrugs. “I’m being fine. I’m being how everyone in your life should have been if they weren’t alldicks.”
I try to suppress a smile out of loyalty to my family, but I can’t quite manage it. “Yes, well. I’m not exactly looking forward to going home for Christmas and spending time with—”
“Aforementioned dicks?”
I crack up. “Yes.”
I watch Nell process this for a second and then she grows quiet, her brow slightly creased with the same intense look she gets when she’s ‘struck by the muse’, which makes me a little nervous.
“What if you didn’t?” she says eventually.
“Didn’t what?”
“You say you’re not looking forward to going back to your parents’ house for the holidays. So, what if you just … didn’t go?”
“What, and stay here on my own?”
It’s a thought, I suppose. I’m not sure if that long on my own would be helpful for my mental health, though. With no distractions or people around to notice when I’ve forgotten to eat or wash or leave the house, I might spiral even more.
Nell shakes her head. “God no, that sounds bleak. I mean, what if you came home with me?”
She phrases it like it’s such a simple idea, like a genuine offer, even though I know it can’t be.
“That’s so kind of you,” I say, getting ready to politely decline as I’m sure she expected me to. “But I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
The note of genuine confusion in her voice again almost throw me for a second, but no. People don’t just offer to host you in their house for three weeks, to spendChristmaswith them.
“Well,” I say, “it would be such a burden to you and your family. They barely know me. They definitely don’t want me hanging around the house and interrupting your family Christmas.”
“OK, to start with, we always have people interrupting our family Christmas. Our house always has people coming and going, and Christmas is the best time for that. I’d say my dads wouldn’t even notice you were there except they would because they already like you and would want you to have a good time. They’d be glad to have you, honestly.”
She sounds serious. Like she’s genuinely offering me a place in her home. I so badly want to believe it. “Nell, you’re not serious. Come on.”
I jostle her gently in the side with a smile to try and provoke her into cracking and going, “Yeah, OK, you got me.”
She just keeps looking at me with that intense expression of hers. “Of course I’m serious. I wouldn’t joke about this.”
Oh my God. She is – she’s actually offering. Every fibre of my body wants me to scream, “YES. PLEASE, TAKE ME HOME WITH YOU!” But it’s still not as simple as that. Maybe Nell wants me there but I can’t burden her entire family with my potentially depressed bummer of a presence and another mouth to feed for that long. And, even if I did think they would all bedelightedto have me in their home, I don’t know how I’d actually feel about abandoning my parents over Christmas, or how I’d even tell them I wasn’t coming home.
