Page 116 of Monarch
“And that won’t change,” Mum tells me. “We’ll always be here for you. Always. But you have a new home now. A new family. You have Lex and Roos.”
I’ve heard people talk about home not being a place but a person or people. I’ve always assumed that meant Dove and my mum, and also my dads. But a new wave of recognition hits me, literally making my body feel lighter. Lex and Roos… They are my home now.
And it doesn’t hurt that we all want to make our home in Amsterdam, a city that gives us very different things – a freedom to create for Lex, for Roos, a community to fight for, and for me, a fresh, new start – but also shared positives: QISS, a safe haven to be our true selves, a place to continue to grow and heal.
“So I got all worked up for no reason?” I laugh at myself.
“Why were you getting all worked up?” Mum asks.
“Because I didn’t want to upset you both by telling you I was going to miss Christmas with you both.”
“Of course we’re sad that we’ll not see you,” Mum tells me, “but all we want is for you to be happy, and we know you are there. And now Lex is back…”
“I just think it’s a perfect place for you,” Dove adds. “And I bet it’s so pretty at Christmas. Maybe next year we can come there.”
“And take more photos?” Mum asks, heavy on the sarcasm. “I don’t think you took enough when we were there.”
I hear more rustling and them both chuckling together. I realise then that they’re going to be okay. They want me there, sure, for Christmas and for all the other days, but they don’tneedme there. I don’t know why I hadn’t realised this earlier.
“As long as you’re happy, Mari,” Mum says, her tone earnest once more. “That’s all we want.”
“I am,” I say, suddenly full to the brim with emotion, “I am very happy.”
I’m happy but not giddy. I’m excited but have my feet firmly on the ground. I’m hopeful but not delusional. I’m no longer looking for signs to tell me what’s right or wrong. I trust myself to figure that out.
“And Lex,” Mum says, her voice a little lower. “It’s really still working out okay?”
This is not the first time Mum has asked me this, and each time I am grateful for the check-in. Only Dove and her really know just how heartbroken I was by Lex leaving eleven years ago. Only they saw how much it confused me. It was them who literally picked me up, wiped my tears, and held me until I could face life again.
This question is Mum’s way of checking that I’m not going to go back to that place.
The thing is, I don’t have a guarantee that I won’t go back there. Life doesn’t come with many guarantees, and I’m pretty sure love comes with even fewer. When I then think about the fact I’m in love with two people, it feels like I’m doing nothing to minimise risks. And yet I wouldn’t change a thing. If guaranteeing I never go back to that confused, dark, heartbroken place again means giving up Roos and Lex right now, I’m going to refuse it every single time.
When Lex told us what happened to xem with xir grandfather, I got both exactly what I wanted – answers about Lex’s disappearances – and what I never wished to hear. It didn’t have to make sense for me to know that it changed everything.
It also did something I never expected. It gave me permission to let go. To release the grudge I’d been holding onto firmly with both hands and all my might. To stop blaming Lex, and in so many more ways, myself for xem rejecting me. To relieve myself of the heavy burden that is carrying around resentment for something a deeply hurt person did to me – and to xemself – when xe was little more than a child.
And once I let go, I found I had two hands ready to embrace a future so intriguing and exciting and hopeful and chaotic and fun thatI was so close to missing out on. Once I had my hands and my heart free again, I was ready to grab hold of both Roos and Lex and look only forwards.
That was, of course, my plan, but the past is not always so easily forgotten or dismissed. The past is still part of us, our memories persist, our body stores our traumas, our brain isn’t so quick to forget, but what we can do is try and limit how much control the past has on our future.
That’s what Lex has been doing as xe continues to go to therapy once a week and to a help group for adult survivors of CSA. It’s what we do together when we talk about our teenage years together – the good, the bad, and the ugly – and it’s what we did in tears, in pain, in a shared messiness only Lex and Roos and I can make when we accompanied xem to a therapy session yesterday. It’s what I hope we will all continue to do as we take life day by day, night by night.
I’m about to answer Mum, but Lex and Roos burst in, boasting plates and cutlery and big, silly smiles. They pause and grimace, seeing I still have my phone held up to my ear, but I wave them in anyway. They can hear what I have to say.
“It’s working out really well,” I tell Mum. “We’re all very happy.”
“Very happy!” Roos raises her voice to echo.
“Ecstatic!” Lex shouts.
Dove and my mum laugh, and I smile so wide, my cheeks hurt.
“I should go, Mum. Dinner’s ready.”
“Okay, but remember. We’re always here,” Mum says.
“Always!” Dove echoes.
