Girl Hearts Girl

by Lucy Sutcliffe

  Kaelyn’s parents had been a little surprised, but they loved her, and they were proud of her. I hoped and prayed that my coming out would go the same way. I picked a date – October 14th – and I promised myself I would do it then.

  On the evening of the 14th, I locked myself in my room and logged on to Skype. With help from Kaelyn, I began drafting my coming out email. My heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

  “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t even know what to put. This is so hard.”

  “Why don’t we Google it?” Kaelyn suggested, opening up a webpage on her computer. “I’m sure other people have done the exact same thing. I bet there are tons of coming out emails you could take inspiration from.”

  We Googled around for hours, reading other people’s coming out stories, copying and pasting bits that I liked into my draft.

  “What if this goes wrong?” I whispered. “What if my life is ruined?”

  “Luce, your parents are amazing. This isn’t going to go wrong. They adore you. If, for some ridiculous reason, this doesn’t turn out the way you want it to … just remember that J.K. Rowling quote. How does it go? ‘Rock bottom was the very foundation upon which I rebuilt my life.’ Something like that. No matter what happens, things will get better. I mean, worst comes to the worst and they have you exiled, you can come and live with me.”

  I sighed. She was right. I knew my parents well enough to be confident that this would not be a big deal to them. I’d hyped it up in my head, snowballing my worries until they had completely got the better of me.

  Several hours later, I finally finished writing. I’d looked over my draft so many times that the lines had started to blur. “Ugh, this doesn’t even make sense to me any more,” I muttered. “I’ve read it so many times that it looks like it’s written in another language.”

  I copied and pasted what I’d written and sent it to Kaelyn.

  “It’s perfect, Luce.”

  I took a deep breath. This was it. “I think it’s time.”

  “Do it,” Kaelyn said, looking straight at me.

  I hit send.

  “Dear Mum and Dad,

  I am writing you this letter because I have something quite important to tell you. Just to stop you worrying, everything is quite all right. I am not bankrupt, pregnant, addicted to drugs, starving, or ill in any way.

  I am truly happy. I love both of you so much and I could not have asked for better, more supportive, patient parents. But what I wanted to tell you is that I am gay.

  This letter has been drafted, scrapped, rewritten and re-edited beyond recognition since 2007/8. With everything that’s been going on over the years there never seemed like a good time to bring it up. I wanted to wait until things settled down, and until I felt comfortable enough to share this part of my life with you.

  Please understand that my reasoning for not telling you until now is entirely based around my own paranoia, my own worry and terror, as opposed to you or the way you have brought me up. I have absolutely no idea what your views are on this subject. Sending this is a giant leap of faith for me and is without a doubt the scariest thing I have ever done in my life. It’s something I have agonized over for years and to have your support would mean the absolute world to me.

  I do however understand that this could backfire completely. I understand that, as much as it breaks my heart, you may want to distance yourself from me for a while if you’re having trouble dealing with it. Please know that this is the last thing I would want and I would love nothing better than to talk about it with you.

  I like to think that this won’t change a single thing. Most of my friends know, and I have received nothing but kindness from each and every one of them. There’s also a whole load of other support out there – books, websites, leaflets etc. If you’re interested – and nothing would make me happier than if you were – I can show you some really, really great places to look, as it might help if you feel like you want to understand things a little more. This is probably a huge shock so I want you to know that there’s so much out there in terms of support and information for parents etc. Of course, you can also ask me – and I will be as honest with you as I can.

  I want you two to know that I am at ease and secure with who I am. I also feel it necessary to cite something: this is not a choice. I have not chosen this, just like I did not choose to be blonde, to like the colour green, to have blue eyes, etc.

  Please know that it would never be my intention to hurt you, and that I want nothing more than to make you happy and proud. You’ve both always been there for me and this is another reason why I have found it so difficult to tell you until now. I am so sorry if this causes you any pain or worry. You often tell me how proud you are of me and I hope that after this, you still feel the same way. I’m the same person I have always been, and nothing at all has changed about me or the way I am. I’m still your Lucy.

  This is, undoubtedly, going to be a shock – so don’t feel like you have to take it all in at once. I completely understand. I would love for you to reply, but only do so when you feel you are able to.”

  I swallowed. I knew they’d be sleeping – it was 11 p.m. – so now, all I could do was wait.

  “I did it,” I whispered.

  “I am so, SO proud of you,” Kaelyn said, grinning. “I wish I could give you the biggest hug ever right now. But you need to get some sleep! I’m sure they’ll have replied by the time you wake up.”

  I nodded absent-mindedly, reading back through the email one last time, trying to figure out if I’d truly said everything I’d needed to say. I scrolled down to the very bottom of the page, and then something caught my eye. Underneath where I thought I’d ended the email, another sentence had appeared:

  “I’ll always love you, Mom and Dad. Love from, your son Ed.”

  I bit back a scream. I’d accidentally included a part of someone else’s coming out email! I had forgotten to scroll down the whole way and remove the bits I hadn’t used when I was copying and pasting from Google.

  I started hyperventilating.

  “Oh my GOD,” I screeched. “OH. MY. GOD. WHAT HAVE I DONE? THEY’RE GOING TO THINK I’M CALLED ED NOW. THEY’LL BE SO CONFUSED. THIS HAS RUINED EVERYTHING.”

  “It’s OK, it’s OK, it’s OK,” Kaelyn said. “They probably won’t even notice. It’s OK! Take a deep breath.”

  I started sobbing. I was so embarrassed. My parents were going to think I was mad!

  My parents’ response was the best that I could have possibly hoped for. They replied in the sweetest way, saying that they loved me no matter what, and that everything was going to be OK.

  They already knew, of course. They’d guessed when letters from America had started arriving on the doorstep. I’d told them Kaelyn was just a friend, and they’d seen right through it but decided not to question me. That was what I loved about my parents – they were tactful and sensitive, and they’d put my happiness and comfort first. They knew I was going to tell them when I was ready. They still loved me. Nothing had changed. I had done it.

  “Hey, guess what! I came out to my parents the other day,” I said excitedly to Rex as we walked home from class one evening.

  “Oh cool, congratulations.”

  “Thanks! I’m so relieved. It’s such a weight off my shoulders, you know?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I guess so.”

  We walked along in silence for a short while. “Can I ask you a question?” Rex said, tentatively.

  “Sure?”

  “Why do gay people feel the need to come out? Like, this is the twenty-first century. No one cares any more.”

  I was stunned. Did he hear what had just come out of his mouth? Did he know that what he’d said was offensive? I did my best to explain, trying to stay calm.

  “Well, across the world, we’re still being discriminated against. There are countries that don’t even recognize our existence. We live in a world where we’re assumed
straight until told otherwise.”

  “No, you’re not. Sure, you’re the exception, because you don’t look gay. But most LGBT people do. So why do you feel the need to tell everyone? Take gay men for example.” He shuddered. “They’re so flamboyant and in your face. I get it, they’re gay and proud or whatever. But it’s all they go on about. Gay this, gay that. Like I said, no one cares.”

  I felt like I’d been punched in the face. Every word that fell from his mouth was like a dagger in my chest, stabbing over and over again.

  “No, you’re wrong. People do care. People care enough to picket funerals. People care enough to stop us from getting married in some countries. People care enough to stop us having the same rights as everyone else, just because of who we love. So yes, coming out still matters. And it’ll matter until we’re able to live freely without persecution.”

  He stared at me. I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier. Now he’d got me going, I couldn’t hold back.

  “Do you even realize how much more ‘straight’ this world is than anything else?” I continued, feeling my face getting hot. “Every single movie I see, TV show I watch, and book I read, there is a man and a woman who fall in love. That’s it.”

  “Probably because gay people flaunt that they’re gay,” he said. “No one wants to see that, because it’s annoying to look at. Gays make a point of holding hands in the street and kissing each other all the time. It’s unnecessary. I’m not homophobic, it’s just irritating. End of.”

  “Gay people holding hands in the street isn’t flaunting,” I shouted. “They’re just existing. I see thousands of straight couples holding hands in the street every single day. Is that them flaunting THEIR sexuality?”

  He started walking away.

  “You’re an idiot,” I yelled after him. “We come out because we’re proud. We’re ALLOWED to be proud. If we’re not proud of ourselves, no one else would be.”

  I stomped home, seething. How dare he? I was so angry, I could barely speak. I had been so cocooned in a world of love and positivity that his reaction had shocked me to the core.

  Us LGBT folk are courageous. By coming out, we are saying that we’re ready to face any negative consequences that come our way. It’s an act of defiance, and an act of pride, and it’s something that should be applauded, not silenced.

  I wish I had shouted this as Rex was walking away.

  Despite the way he had treated me, I continued to hang out with Rex because I didn’t really have anyone else. And although he’d made a point of saying that he was fine with me being gay, he would frequently make comments that made me believe otherwise.

  Kaelyn and I had been planning her trip to Plymouth for quite some time. She had two weeks off for Easter, and was going to come and visit me. I was so excited, and I’d been babbling about it to Rex when he suddenly interrupted me.

  “Do you think you could stop talking about her so much? She’s literally all you talk about. It’s really annoying.”

  And so, I stopped. After all, Rex was the only friend I had in Plymouth. If I lost him, I would have nobody.

  But I was starting to notice how quickly this toxic friendship was wearing me down. I was feeling increasingly miserable and cripplingly lonely, crying myself to sleep most nights, wishing I could be at home with my family and friends. I longed for Kaelyn to be there with me, to spur me on, but I knew that wasn’t her job. I knew I couldn’t rely on anyone else for happiness. I knew it had to come from within.

  My anxiety was getting worse and worse. I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of leaving the house. I had started laying in bed all day, trying to stay calm, bribing my housemates to do my shopping for me. Just thinking about simple tasks, like going to the post office or walking to class, made me feel ill. All I wanted to do was curl up in my duvet and never come out.

  I eventually convinced myself I needed to see a doctor. It took me three attempts to pick up the phone and make an appointment, but I managed it with shaking hands. The doctor was extremely understanding, and recommended that I take a six week course of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. I was sceptical – was therapy the right choice for me? It all sounded a bit new age and hippy dippy. I went along to the first session with gritted teeth, expecting the worst. But as the session leader started talking about the symptoms of anxiety, I found myself nodding my head. I looked around the room. Everyone else was nodding, too. I began to relax. Maybe this was the right place for me, after all.

  Gradually, we learned about how thought processes really work, and how, when we’re feeling anxious, everything in our brain goes into overdrive. We had to learn to “catch” our anxious thoughts before they accumulated into something unmanageable. Half the time, the session leader said, anxiety about a situation comes from absolutely nothing.

  “Catch the anxious thought, and ask yourself – is this a realistic worry? What is the worst than can happen? And what if the worst does happen? Is it the end of the world? Usually, the answer is no.”

  Over the following weeks, I found myself growing steadily calmer again. My thoughts were clearing and my mind was quiet. When anxiety tried to rear its ugly head, I did my best to face it head on. Is this a realistic thing to be panicking about? I’d ask myself. The answer would always be no. All I had to do was step away from a situation, and remove the emotions attached to it. It was mind over matter, and slowly but surely, I was managing to get things back under control.

  Meanwhile, I desperately wanted to make new friends so I could quietly drift away from Rex, but everyone in my class seemed to have already formed groups, and I felt like it was too late. So I struggled on, in the way I always have, absolutely certain that things would start getting better once Rex saw how badly he was treating me. I didn’t realize that being friends with someone like him could only stretch you so far until you snap.

  One evening, after a very stressful day of editing, I came home feeling exhausted and defeated. Rex had been angry at me over something all day, and it was wearing me thin. I was sick of having to tiptoe around him. I reached for my phone and texted Kaelyn, but she was about to go into surgery to operate on a dog, and there wasn’t time to talk for long. I told her I loved her, that I was proud of her, and that I felt so lucky to have her by my side. I wished she could be there with me instead of thousands of miles away. I felt selfish, but I missed her, and I was so lonely.

  I suddenly remembered something Ben had said to me all those years ago.

  “Whenever either of us are feeling lonely, we should just look for the Big Dipper. It can be our little thing! A way to stop us feeling as lonely, even if we’re far apart.”

  I went and stood by my window, and looked out at the night sky. I searched for the Big Dipper for ages, squinting through the glass, but I couldn’t find it. All I could see was the glowing orange hue of the city skyline, lit up by the hundreds of street lamps. Feeling lonelier than ever, I turned away from the window, grabbed my phone and texted Emily and Bel.

  Guys. I miss you all so much. Uni sucks big time right now. Save me!

  Emily replied almost instantly.

  Tell me about it. Some of my housemates are absolutely vile. Get me out of here please.

  Bel chimed in.

  Good to know I’m not the only one. Wish I could see you guys.

  A feeling of nostalgia and sadness hit me like a ton of bricks. I missed my friends so much. I missed those carefree summers that we’d spent together, all the fun we’d had at the Village Players, and how comfortable and relaxed I felt when I was with them.

  I started thinking about how different they were to Rex. Did I deserve to be treated this badly? No. So why was I still being nice to him? Why were we still friends?

  Because you’re scared, said the little voice in my head, and I realized it was right. I’ve always hated conflict, and I tend to brush over things for the sake of staying positive and moving on. But I was starting to notice the huge difference between being nice and being passive. Sure,
I could be kind, good-hearted and sympathetic, but I was certainly not passive. If it came to it, I could stand up for myself. Deep down, I knew I just needed to find the strength to walk away.

  Kaelyn arrived in Plymouth at the end of April. I took her on the Ferris wheel, made her sample pasties for the first time (“meh, not as good as hamburgers”) and showed her all the little beaches and restaurants. She loved the quaint Englishness of the city, and we decided that one day, maybe when we’d both finished studying, we would move to Devon or Cornwall together.

  “It’s just so peaceful,” she said one evening as we sat together on the grass, looking out at the sea. I smiled. I couldn’t wait to start my life with her.

  One morning, I received a text message out of the blue from Rex, inviting Kaelyn and me to a barbecue at his house. I was over the moon – perhaps he had finally got over whatever it was that was bothering him? I could tell that Kaelyn wasn’t so sure, but we went along anyway, armed with some sausages as a peace offering.

  When we got there, the atmosphere was tense. Rex was busy trying to rekindle the burnt out barbecue, so we went inside and helped cook the food in the oven instead. He’d invited several other people from our film course, including the two girls I’d spotted on my first day. I saw my chance and went over to introduce myself.

  The shorter girl, Leah, was really funny. She and Kaelyn got along brilliantly, and within minutes we were laughing and joking about whether or not we were all going to get food poisoning from our terrible cooking.

  Kaelyn and I ambled home that evening hand in hand, our stomachs aching from how much Leah had made us laugh.