Girl Hearts Girl

by Lucy Sutcliffe

  We spent every waking moment together, and every single day I fell more and more in love with her. I loved her laugh, the way her big brown eyes crinkled up when she smiled, and the way she tucked her hair behind her ear absent-mindedly whenever she was thinking. She was quick-witted and extremely smart, yet hilariously clumsy and silly. One night, she decided she wanted to cut her hair, and started hacking at it with a pair of kitchen scissors, slicing off huge chunks and then haphazardly trimming all the mismatched strands to the same length.

  “Whaddya think?” she asked, giving me an extravagant curtesy.

  I loved the way she snuggled up to me at night when we were sleeping, and how peaceful she made me feel. Our first kiss was better than I could have ever imagined. She rested her head on my shoulder as the cold night air brushed against our flushed faces. We stood there for ages, just breathing in how it felt to be so close to one another. I felt giddy with happiness, wishing that the feeling could last for ever.

  With each day that passed, we could see the end of our trip looming closer and closer. We’d had the time of our lives, and saying goodbye meant the little piece of paradise we’d built for ourselves was about to come crashing down. Time flashed by; minutes ticked past like seconds, hours slipped through the cracks without us even noticing, and Tuesday, our last day together, swiftly rolled around. It was time to say goodbye.

  I started packing up my things, trying to hold back my tears, but I didn’t get very far. We spent most of the morning crying, cuddled up in bed, holding on to each other for dear life.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” she kept whispering. “Please don’t leave.”

  I held on to her tighter.

  Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed and managed to cram everything into my suitcase. I stood in the middle of Kaelyn’s room, looking around. It already felt emptier without all my stuff strewn about. I spotted her hoodie, slung over the back of a chair. I went over and held it close to me, breathing in her smell, trying to commit it to memory. Kaelyn gently took it from me, turned to her dressing table, and spritzed the hoodie with her favourite perfume.

  “Here,” she said, handing it back to me. “Take this with you. It’ll remind you of me, even when we’re thousands of miles apart.”

  I unzipped my suitcase, pulled out my sweater, and did the same thing with my perfume. She held it to her chest, eyes brimming with fresh tears. We stood there, hands clasped, foreheads pressed together. Every part of me was aching with the thought of having to leave her.

  “It’s time to go,” she whispered.

  When it finally came for us to part ways at the airport, I held on to her for as long as I could. Walking away from her, as she stood there, crying, was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I felt like I was leaving half of me behind.

  “We have to keep going,” I whispered, holding back my own tears. “We’ll be together again soon. And whether those seconds fly by like the wind, or drift on for what seems like for ever, you will always, always be on my mind, and in my heart. And that’s something this stupid distance will never ever break.”

  “We’ll be together again soon, my love,” she said. “So soon.”

  As I boarded the plane, Clare and Becci at my side, I looked out and spotted her, still standing by the exit. She was clutching my jumper. I waved, biting my lip, trying not to cry again.

  The cabin crew shut all the exits, and we sat back and prepared for take-off.

  “You OK?” Clare whispered as the plane turned on to the runway. I nodded.

  Within minutes, we were up in the air. I stared out of the window at the island below, watching it shrink to the size of a pinprick before finally disappearing as the plane soared above the clouds. My heart felt like it was breaking in two. Everything had stopped the moment that our lips had parted and our hands had unlinked. Life seemed to slow down. I was being forced back into the real world.

  As time passed, I began to realize something. Sure, being away from the person I loved was one of the worst feelings in the world – but I was still lucky. I’d found someone amazing. I’d found someone I could trust and rely on, who adored me and would keep me safe. One of the last things Kaelyn had said to me was, “You have to work hard at a relationship, but you don’t have to work at love. When you think about it like that, we have it easy!”

  It was true. The reality of long distance was hard, but we were desperate and willing to make it work. We were a part of something new, something magical, and I had never been more excited.

  Several days after returning home, I remembered the footage I’d captured on my camera. I spent an afternoon importing all the video clips, feeling nostalgic. The trip already felt like a lifetime away, but as I sat and watched it through, I was transported back to where I had been just four weeks ago – exploring California, sitting under the stars in Arizona, walking along the Vegas Strip in Nevada, and finally, exploring St Kitts with Kaelyn.

  I decided I wanted to turn my footage into a little film. It was great practice for my degree, which I would be starting in just a matter of weeks. I began piecing the clips together, bit by bit, colour correcting certain shots and adding music and title cards here and there. Halfway through, I suddenly had an idea. Why not keep the America shots and the St Kitts shots separate? I could put together a different video, of just the things I’d captured in St Kitts, and surprise Kaelyn with it. We were both struggling with how much we missed each other, and I knew this would be the perfect way to cheer her up.

  I spent all evening editing. I kept the film short and sweet, with a few clips from our favourite days on the beach, and then some shots of us goofing around, imitating each other’s accents. I added two of our favourite songs as the backing tracks – “Ours” by Taylor Swift, and “For the First Time” by The Script. Watching it back made me cry – it was perfect. I uploaded it on to YouTube, setting it as private so only Kaelyn could view it, then opened up a new email.

  “Surprise,” I wrote. “Here’s a little something to remind us of the good times. I love you.”

  I hit send. I was so excited for her to see it. I knew she had been in class all day, and with the time difference, I’d be asleep by the time she got home, so I went to bed, excited to wake up to her reaction the next morning.

  At around 2 a.m., my phone bleeped and woke me up. Kaelyn had sent me an email. I opened it, still half asleep.

  “I’m crying so hard right now. That was beautiful, babe. Thank you for surprising me with that. We should film all our trips together! Such a nice way of remembering it all. I love you.”

  That little film had done what I’d needed it to do – cheer us up, and spur us on. It had reminded us what really mattered: we were going to be together again soon.

  There were just a few short weeks of the summer holidays left before my first term at university began. Something about the fact that I was about to leave home for the first time had made me suddenly want to be eleven years old again, with no responsibilities. I was terrified to leave, but equally as excited for what was to come.

  In the evenings, my friends and I gathered together, disposable barbeques in hand, and headed to the fields. We sat around in a circle and sipped on ciders, toasting sausages and burgers over the smoky flames. We ate marshmallow sandwiches like little kids, giggling as they melted in our hands and mouths, covering us in sticky goo. We lay down and looked up at the sky, cuddled up under blankets, and talked about the future. It felt weird knowing that we probably wouldn’t see each other again until Christmas.

  I was about to say goodbye to the “teenage” portion of my life for good. It was time to start a new chapter.

  On September 9th, I moved into 35 Seymour Avenue, Plymouth. It was a terraced student house at the top of a hill, with four bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and a little garden with a grotty outside toilet. My new housemates were called Sean, Rob and Grace. We’d exchanged a few emails, but I was still very nervous to meet them in real life for the first time.


  Our first night together went better than I had expected. My parents had slipped a bottle of wine into my suitcase – “a friendship offering!” Mum had joked – so I cracked it open in the kitchen.

  I was welcomed with a cheer. The awkwardness melted away as we started getting to know each other, and we spent the evening drinking wine and beer, eating pizza, and playing several furiously competitive games of Uno. I’d put myself into confident mode, and it felt almost natural. Sure, I could be shy, but there was also an outgoing side of me that loved socializing and making friends. That night, I fell asleep feeling happy and content. It felt good to be independent and self-sufficient. I had had fun with my new housemates, and I had a feeling that I was going to love Plymouth, with its charming jumble of elegant modern architecture, church ruins and ancient office buildings, with the glittering ocean as a backdrop.

  Now all I had to conquer was my first day of university.

  On the morning of the day my course began, I woke up extra early. I always felt far less anxious when I had plenty of time and didn’t have to rush, so I’d planned my outfit the day before and laid everything out on my desk, ready to pack into my bag. As I got ready, I stared at myself in the mirror. I was trying to stay calm, but my stomach was doing backflips.

  “You can do this,” I whispered to my reflection. “They want you there. They gave you a place for a reason.”

  I shut the front door behind me and headed down the hill. It was a bright, sunny day, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. As I approached the university building, I took several long, deep breaths. You’re here because you’re good enough, I kept thinking to myself, over and over.

  The film studio where all our lessons would be was on the second floor. The door was wide open, and as I walked in I was greeted by a tall, tanned, blond boy, with a face covered in freckles. “Hi! I’m Jacob,” he said, holding out his hand. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Lucy,” I said, smiling.

  He smiled back. “Nice to meet you, Lucy!”

  A girl walked in – the only other girl in the room so far, I noticed. She was small, with brown hair and glasses. I thought about going over to say hello, but my shyness suddenly got the better of me. She went and sat down at a different table, and got chatting to some other boys.

  More and more people were filing into the room, including another two girls. I wondered whether they already knew each other, and suddenly I began to worry. What if everyone was already friends, and I was the odd one out? I wasn’t from around here, after all. Had I made a big mistake?

  Before I had time to really start panicking, Paul, our lecturer, walked in.

  “Hello everybody!” he said. “Good to see you’re all getting to know each other already. Take a seat, and let’s get started!”

  I listened intently as Paul outlined each of the modules we’d be taking and the equipment we were going to be using. Some of it I’d never even heard of. Then we started talking about what film meant to us. It was an escape, Paul said, as well as a means of expression. A chance to get creative. To think outside of the box, and to stretch yourself to your abilities. I could feel myself smiling. That was exactly what I wanted to hear.

  I left class that day feeling over the moon. I’d never been so certain that I was in the right place at the right time. I was studying something I loved, in a place I already loved, and I was going to work as hard as I possibly could.

  It had been nearly a month since I’d moved to Plymouth. On the way home from class one afternoon, one of my classmates, Rex, caught up with me.

  “Hey! I think we live in the same direction. Wanna walk home together?”

  “Sure!”

  As we walked, we chatted about our favourite books and films. We had similar taste in both: he loved Harry Potter and terrible horror films, but had a soft spot for Disney. I laughed at him for that and he pretended to be offended.

  Over the coming weeks, Rex and I became inseparable. We hung out every day, getting coffee in the mornings, wandering around Plymouth, exploring new places and talking about anything that came into our heads. We were having a blast, but there was one thing that was bothering me. I’d promised myself that I would be honest with people about my sexuality, but it hadn’t come up in conversation with anyone yet. I knew that if I was going to continue being friends with Rex, I’d have to tell him. It felt wrong to keep part of my life a secret.

  The very next morning, Rex and I were sat in class together, talking about celebrities.

  “So, what kind of famous people do you go for? Are you a Ryan Gosling kind of girl or are you more into Zac Efron types?”

  I saw my chance.

  “Oh! I’m actually gay. So … I’m more into Emma Watson, Ellen Page types, ha ha!”

  “Oh.”

  There was a pause.

  “What do you mean, oh?” I laughed nervously.

  “Nothing.”

  I swallowed. I’d never received a reaction like this before. Rex didn’t speak to me much for the rest of the lesson, and we didn’t walk home together, either. I was confused, and worried. Was this the end of our friendship? I certainly didn’t want to continue being friends with him if this was the way he was going to treat me.

  That evening, he called me up out of the blue.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi?”

  “Listen, I don’t care that you’re gay,” he blurted out. “It’s just, my mum is gay. And it made things hard for me for a while.”

  “Oh! That’s OK,” I said. I didn’t want to ask him about the details. It seemed like a sensitive subject.

  “But like I said … I don’t care.”

  I was relieved. He didn’t mind that I was gay. That was what mattered, right?

  I very quickly got used to being upfront about my sexuality. When we’d go out to clubs or bars and guys would come up to me and ask for my number, I’d be honest about it straight away and then, with a huge smile on my face, I’d tell them about Kaelyn.

  Not everyone took the hint though. One evening I was sitting at the bar with my housemates, Sean, Rob and Grace, when a spray-tanned, leather-clad man came sauntering up behind us and tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Hey pretty lady,” he growled, staring at me from underneath his eyebrows.

  “Um … hello!” I said, bemused.

  “You got a boyfriend then, or can I have you?”

  I grimaced. Can he have me? Gross.

  “Nope, no boyfriend. I have a girlfriend, though…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

  He stared at me, confused.

  “I’m a lesbian.”

  He frowned.

  “I like WOMEN,” I said.

  My housemates, who had been watching from the other end of the bar, were in stitches.

  “Oh, you like women?” He made air quotes with his fingers.

  I stared at him in disbelief, trying not to laugh. “No, like, actual women. No air quotations necessary. Is there a way I could make this clearer for you?”

  He smirked. “Well, I like actual women too. We’re perfect for each other.” He laughed loudly at his own joke.

  I smiled politely. “I don’t think so.”

  “OK, I see, you’re playing hard to get. Can I at least have your number?”

  I was getting impatient. I opened my mouth, ready to hit him with a flurry of insults, but Sean suddenly stood up.

  “Did you hear her? She said she’s GAY,” he said. “Gay! Gay for WOMEN! Are you a woman? No!”

  The man stared, sizing Sean up, then snorted loudly.

  “Just leave,” Sean and I said in unison.

  The man turned on his heel and strutted off.

  “Jeez,” said Sean. “I’m embarrassed to be a part of the male species sometimes!”

  I laughed.

  It felt liberating, having hidden my sexuality for so long, to suddenly be so … proud of it. And I was proud – very proud. It had taken a while, but my pride had crept up on me, ver
y slowly, and the feeling had steadily swelled inside my chest until I was ready to scream it from the rooftops. Now that I was proud, I knew it was time to do the thing I had been dreading the most: come out to my parents.

  Kaelyn and I had talked it through for hours and hours. I wanted to Skype them, but I was scared that if they reacted badly, it would make things awkward. Eventually, after much deliberation, I decided to send them an email.

  I’ve received criticism, having retold this story to people, that coming out in an email is “chickening out.” I believe whole-heartedly that this is not the case – quite the opposite. The bottom line is, coming out is an incredibly personal thing. Absolutely no one should have a say in how you go about it, except you. It’s a choice you have to make, and you do it when you feel ready and comfortable, in the way you deem fit. There is no wrong or right way, and it should never be rushed. Take all the time you need.

  “Do it the way you feel most comfortable with, babe,” Kaelyn had said to me. “This is about you, right now. Oh, and my one piece of advice? Don’t tell your parents that you’re gay just as you’re about to board a plane.”

  Kaelyn had come out a short while before. She’d gone back home to Michigan for a few weeks to visit her family, and had promised herself that she would do it. But the days ticked by and with each passing minute, she grew more and more anxious. She worked herself up into a panic, and time and time again, she tried and failed to come out and say it. Eventually, as her parents were driving her back to the airport, she knew she had to just blurt it out. She checked in, dropped off her baggage, and turned to her parents just before heading through security.

  “Mom, Dad. I have something to tell you.”

  Her parents had looked at her in horror. “Are you pregnant? Have you done something illegal? Have you dropped out of school? What on earth is wrong?”

  “No, no, it’s none of those things. I’m … I’m gay.”

  They hugged her, told her they loved her no matter what, and asked her why she hadn’t told them sooner. Kaelyn started crying too, and explained that she had been worried they wouldn’t love her any more if they knew that she was gay. She suddenly wanted to tell them everything – all the times she’d cried herself to sleep at night, all the times she’d looked in the mirror and hated what she saw in the reflection. She wished she had more time to talk it through with them, but her gate was announced and she had to go. They said goodbye tearfully, and that had been that.