Page 92 of Sad Girl Hours
Chapter Forty-four
Nell
I really do love Christmas. It’s the Holloways’ time to gosh dang shine. Everywhere is decorated to the nines; the table at lunch isheavingwith an absolute banquet of all my favourite foods – I want to give whoever first thought to roast a potato instead of just boiling it a little kiss on the forehead. A crisp golden roastie? Nowthat’san exemplary vegetable.
Everyone’s slightly tipsy but in a fun way, we’re singing along to songs we know the words to, and there’s just that gingerbread-scented magic in the air. It’s cold and dark outside for most of the day, but we’re all in here, all the people I love most in the world in one room.
Saffron doesn’t eat quite as much as the rest of us – I know she’s not really had a big appetite recently while things have been bad for her – but I’m glad to see she still eats a decent amount. She’s always beautiful but with the candlelight from the candelabra in the centrepiece flickering on her face, the pink from the warmth rising over her cheeks, here – in my house … she’s something else.
I feel my dads – and sometimes Naomi – watching us as we share quiet inside jokes or pass each other things without the other asking for them, and I know what they’re thinking. Something that’s confirmed when I’m carrying dishes from the table to the kitchen and I hear Saffron’s name, making me pause in the doorway.
“Saffron’s beautiful,” Gran says, their backs turned to me as they pass things either into the sink or the dishwasher. “Nell’s done nicely there, hasn’t she?”
“She is. And very sweet. I’m glad Nell’s sorted through some things enough to finally realise she’s gay. We’ve known since she was about eight and obsessed with that girl at school.”
“We’ve notknown,” Pops says. “We weren’t sure when she was older, remember?”
“True. She has played things close to her chest.”
Have I played things close to my chest, or am I just demisexual and don’t get attracted to people willy-nilly?
“Not everyone comes out of the womb waving a
Pride flag, Eric,” my gran says. “You may have done but not everyone. I swear you even gave the doctor a wink as you popped out.”
Pops laughs. “You must have a thing for men in white coats. Although I do tend to catch more calves than human babies.”
“Tend to?”
I would normally be thrilled to join in this conversation and put my dad on blast. But listening to them oh-so-casually discussing the nuances (or lack thereof) of my sexuality has made me see red. Scarlet.
I cough loudly in the doorway. “Hi, guys.”
Pops jumps. “Jesus, Nell, you startled me.”
There’s a riotous shriek from the lounge – I suspect the guns are back out.
“I’m going to go investigate the hullaballoo,” my gran says, scarpering, kissing me on the cheek as she goes past.
“You all right, Nelaphant?” Dad says as I put the dishes down on the only free bit of worktop space, with a little more force than is warranted.
“Actually, no,” I say. “I’m kind of sick of you both talking about my sexuality. I know you’re my dads, and you’re predisposed to be nosy, but it’s also nothing to do with you.”
Their eyes dart between each other, and it just makes me want to yell at them more.
“Where’s this coming from, agápi mou?” Pops says. “We’re just happy for you. We want to celebrate all the different things that make you you – if you’ll let us.”
“And one of those parts of me is a big ol’ hunk of lesbianism, is it?”
Another look.
“Well,” Pops starts slowly, “you and Saffron do seem to have a beautiful thing going.”
“Onceagain, Saffron is not my girlfriend.”
“No.” A pause. “But would you like her to be?”
“Yes,” I say truthfully.
