Page 75 of Sad Girl Hours
“You’re spiralling, aren’t you?” Nell says matter-of-factly. “I can always tell. Your eyes get a little wider, and you go really quiet, even though I can tell that your brain’s being mean to you very loudly inside.”
“Can you stop reading me so accurately, please?” I joke, focusing on staring down at my hands so that she can’t see my telltale eyes.
“Nope. Now, I’m going to make this very simple. All you have to do is answer two questions, OK?”
I’m nervous. “OK.”
“Do you want to go back to your parents for the holidays?”
I’d lie but what’s the point when I’ve already said as much?
“No.”
“If you felt completely assured that everyone in my family would be glad to have you there, would youwantto come home with me? It’s fine if you wouldn’t.”
She tacks that last bit on the end completely earnestly. I want to tell her truthfully that I would love nothing more than to go back to her house, to spend all that time with her, to be in ahome, one decorated for Christmas with garlands everywhere and mistletoe in every doorway, and a tree in both the loungeandthe kitchen, like I saw on Nell’s Instagram last year. A home full of music and laughter andlove.
“I would,” I say, forcing myself to sound tentative, “but—”
“Nobuts!” Nell exclaims. “It can be as simple as that if you want it to be.”
“But,” I say, louder than before, “I know your family won’t—”
“No, you don’t. Hold on.” She pulls out her phone and starts tapping.
“What are you doing?”
She presses something again and then holds it in her palm, the dialling tone ringing out on speaker mode into the freezing air.
“Oh my God, Nell, stop.”
She just holds up a finger.
“Hello, agápi mou!” The voice of Xander, one of her dads, rings out while I move to face straight forward, feeling my eyes widen. “You OK? And where are you? I can hear sounds of revelry.”
“I’m good, Pops. I’m at the fair in town,” Nell says cheerily. “I just had a quick question for you and Dad.”
“Of course, shoot.”
I can hear noises in the background like they’re making tea.
“I’m listening too!” I recognise the voice of her other dad, Eric, in the background. “We’re so excited to see you in a couple of days, Nelaphant.”
“Me too,” Nell says. “But I actually wanted to talk to you about something first. You see, Saffron—”
I turn to gaze imploringly at Nell to get her to stop this before it’s too late, but she ignores this nonverbal plea.
“Oh, lovely Saffron. How’s she doing?” Xander asks.
“She’s OK,” Nell says, eyes flicking to me now. “But I was wondering: she’s got some … family stuff going on, and she’s not sure what’s happening – nothing’s definite yet – but if she was able to, how would you feel about her coming to stay with us over the holidays?”
I love her for phrasing it like that, for not asking the questions in a leading way, but I still know what their answer will—
“Oh, we’d bedelighted!” Eric says, and my gritted jaw grows slacker. “The more the merrier’s always been our philosophy. You know that, Nell.”
“Of course I do, yes. I just wanted to check,” she adds pointedly (to me, not her dads).
“You lemon,” Eric says. “You know we love hosting, especially when it’s people that are important to you.”
