The waiter arrived with our cocktails. He presented them to us flamboyantly, flicking the tea towel over his shoulder for effect. We laughed.
“He’s the kind of guy Karl would have a real problem with,” I whispered with a grin as he turned away.
Leah smiled. “Karl is messed up. He’s so backwards. Virtually no one here has opinions like his any more. He’s from the dark ages, I swear.”
We sat in silence for a while, sipping on our cocktails. Then Leah spoke up. “I really respect gay people, you know?”
“I really respect gay people, too,” I said, smirking.
She burst out laughing. “No, but seriously. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. For me, it was so easy. I fancied boys, and that was that. It must have been so much scarier for you, not to have those feelings. I know it must have been so confusing and lonely.” She paused, frowning. “I respect that, I really do.”
Her words, however throwaway or casual they had been for her, made me so happy. To know that I could be openly gay and still respected by my friends and family made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Sometimes a little reassurance can go a really long way.
University had been three years of wonderful highs and devastating lows, but the ups and downs had made me a stronger, better, more well-rounded person. I had a degree under my belt. I’d come to appreciate the true value of friendship. I had a better grasp of what it meant to be a feminist. I realized that the people who don’t value you don’t matter. I learned about the importance of doing what’s right, of having a say, and of standing up for yourself. Most importantly, after years of having absolutely no self-esteem, I had finally learned to love myself. That has been my biggest achievement to date.
It was my last night in Plymouth, and once again, I was the only one left in the house. As dusk fell, I opened my bedroom window as wide as it could go, and breathed in the city air. A bar fight had broken out just down the road, and beyond the hysterical screeches I could hear the soft rumble of car engines and the distant coo of seagulls. I realized how much I was going to miss Plymouth, in all its grey, rainy glory. I looked up and spotted the Big Dipper, shining bright above the rooftops, majestic and aloof. I grabbed my phone and texted Ben.
He replied almost instantly. I can see it, too. We’re never too far apart, are we?!
I put my phone away and sighed. I felt so happy.
“You did it,” I said out loud. “You’ve made it this far.”
Kaelyn and I had been making plans to move in together for a while. All we had to figure out was when, where and how. Now that I’d finished university, the “when” had been taken care of – we wanted to do it as soon as possible.
Kaelyn had finished her veterinary training and had been looking for an internship. She finally landed a spot at an emergency animal clinic in Phoenix, Arizona. The clinic had a great reputation, and I was so proud of her for getting a place. And so, just like that, we decided that I would move to Arizona to be with her.
From the outside, making the choice to move to the other side of the world seemed easy. We had been long distance for four whole years, and all we wanted was to be together, with no more countdowns, tears or goodbyes. I knew that moving to a new continent would be life-changing in the best possible way – but that didn’t stop it from being petrifying.
I knew that I was going to miss home terribly. I also was going to miss the “Englishness” of life in the UK. All of the home comforts that I took for granted – cups of tea, Yorkshire puddings, Marmite – would be gone. What was life going to be like in Phoenix? How would I adjust to driving on the other side of the road? Was I going to melt in the Arizona climate?
Kaelyn and I had always known that one of us would eventually have to leave her home country. We also knew that we’d probably both have to do it over the course of our lives, depending on where we ended up. So although I was nervous, my desire for adventure was stirring. I’ve always believed that, every so often, a huge change is a positive thing. It keeps you sharp and alert, and stops you from resting on your laurels. I’d lived in Plymouth for three years, and I knew it was time to move on to pastures new.
But nothing had prepared me for how hard it was to say goodbye to my family and friends. I had just two months before my move to Arizona in the summer, and I was determined to make the most of every second. I spent my days cycling around my village and having picnics in the sunshine with my friends, padding barefoot through golden corn fields and swimming in the River Windrush. In the evenings, I sat in my garden with my family, listening to the bees and watching the honeysuckle billow in the wind.
During my last week in England, Becci and Clare presented me with a photo album. They’d selected all of our best moments – school break times, parties, shopping trips and restaurant outings, and finally, clips from our adventures in America. Each snap had its own special caption. It was such a beautiful gesture.
One evening in early August, I met with a few friends from school to see a film at the Phoenix Picturehouse, a tiny art house cinema in the middle of Oxford. Before we went inside, we headed out into Jericho for some late-night snacks from G&D’s, our favourite ice cream cafe. As we sat outside at the little metal tables, I looked down at my mint-chocolate-chip ice cream cone, with its two flakes and its sticky toffee sauce, and realized just how much I was going to miss Oxford. Not just the people – or the ice cream – but the place itself. The university buildings jutted high out into the sky, their elegant structures a dark silhouette against the sunset and the street lamps. Somewhere in the distance, bells were chiming. The air was unusually warm, and people were spilling out into the street from the restaurant opposite, laughing and joking, clinking their glasses. There was a reason that poet Matthew Arnold called it “the city of dreaming spires.” My city was beautiful, and it was home. I was going to miss it so much.
On one of my last days in England, the local news announced that there was going to be a Perseids meteor shower. As my friends and I gathered together in the fields, huddled under blankets, trying to spot shooting stars, I silently made a wish whenever one whizzed by.
I hope my life is always as happy as this.
Finally, August 15th arrived. As the plane took off, I watched my tiny country shrink smaller and smaller into the distance until it was blocked by a wall of thick white cloud. I cleared my throat and stared straight ahead. My mind began to clear. I was terrified, but at the same time, I was strangely calm. I was off to start a new life, with someone I adored, and I was as ready as I was ever going to be.
“I’ll just have a water, please!”
“What?”
“A water.”
“An … a what? Orange juice?”
“WA-TER! H2O! The stuff that comes out of taps!”
Despite what people may believe, America and England are very, very different places. I immediately discovered that people really struggled to understand my accent. Ordering a simple “glass of water, please” was like pulling teeth. Everyone assumed I was Australian.
I also had to adjust to American-style TV.
“ARE YOU SUFFERING FROM BAD GAS?”
Adverts would scream at me from across the room.
“DO YOU STRUGGLE WITH UNTIMELY BOWEL MOVEMENTS?”
And while road signs in Britain say gentle things like, “Don’t drive drunk!” and “Please be safe and responsible when driving,” Arizonian road signs are a little more direct:
“DRIVE HAMMERED, GET NAILED.”
I felt lonely at first, and disorientated. I was a country girl at heart, and the bustling streets of the Phoenix metropolis were far flung from the narrow country lanes I was used to strolling along, avoiding rabbits and dodging pheasants. But despite the huge differences, it felt good to be somewhere new, and I loved being able to explore another part of the world. It was an adventure.
Family life with Kaelyn was one thing I got used to very quickly. As always when you move in with someone for the first time, we started learni
ng a lot more about each other. She was the kind of girl who ate sandwiches over the sink for every meal just to save washing up, but I managed to convince her that a diet of peanut butter, jam and white bread probably wasn’t doing her any good. We started cooking together, testing out weird and wonderful recipes (which would often end in disaster), flicking tomato sauce at each other while the cats played at our feet. I learned that she had a penchant for ice cream sandwiches (she ended up making a dedicated storage space in our freezer), and that she snored herself awake most nights (just kidding, Kae! Kind of…).
One thing I had been really wary of since moving out there was the way LGBT people were treated in a conservative place like Arizona, but neither Kaelyn nor I noticed anything significant. We could still walk down the street holding hands without any trouble, and the worst we would get were a few glares every now and then.
One week in early November, Kaelyn and I took a trip up to Flagstaff, a sleepy little city in northern Arizona. When we went to check in at the hotel reception, the lady behind the desk kept looking up at us and grinning as she typed in our details. She handed us our room key without a word, but suddenly spoke up as we turned to leave.
“Hang on a minute!”
Kaelyn and I looked at each other nervously. Checking into hotel rooms as a couple was often uncomfortable, because people had a habit of being intrusive. We braced ourselves for the worst.
“Are you two … a couple?”
“Yes.”
The woman started banging her fists on the table, squealing excitedly. We jumped back in surprise.
“I knew it! I knew it!” She hurried around the desk and came rushing at us, pulling us into an embrace. When she drew back, we saw that she had tears in her eyes.
“My daughter … she is just like you. She came out to me just a few months back. Oh, I love her so much. I’m so proud of her. And I’m so happy for you girls! God bless you both. Have a wonderful stay!”
Once I’d officially launched my website, offering up my services as a freelance film and video editor, I landed a job pretty quickly and really began coming into my own. I could feel myself settling down, finding a routine, and sticking to it. When I wasn’t editing, I spent my time writing this book. It was therapeutic and strangely calming, setting my little life out into chapters and paragraphs, analysing every last detail, bullet pointing my memories in chronological order like they were ingredients in a recipe.
And this brings me up to now.
Today is April 19th. It’s 7:34 p.m., almost dusk, and I’m sitting here on my balcony with my feet up, sipping on a glass of wine, peering out at the glittering highway between the gap in the apartment buildings opposite ours. It’s busy, and it’s noisy, but something about it feels like home.
I love it here in Arizona. My ghostly English skin has slowly become used to the sunburn and the freckles. I’ve adjusted to the hot, dusty climate. We live in a gorgeous third floor apartment with a pool, a gym and dozens of elegant palm trees which tower above us, swaying in the wind. The views from our window are breathtaking. We live in the valley, surrounded by majestic, sandy mountains, their craggy peaks soaring up into the vibrant blue sky. It’s new, it’s different, and it’s scary – but so was Plymouth, and that turned out just fine. Kaelyn and I finally have the life we so desperately wanted. We have three cats – Alfie, Oscar and Isaac – and we’re a happy little family. (Isaac is my favourite though – don’t tell the others!)
I feel like I’ve come an awfully long way. I was such a shy, anxious child, and as a teen all I wanted was to blend into the crowd. I denied myself the chance to be authentic for so long, but I’m now at a place in my life where I can comfortably be me – truly, utterly, completely me.
I’m also in a position to spread the message of equality on a much wider scale. We have hundreds of thousands of people following us on social media, where we do our best to preach love and acceptance over hated, bigotry and homophobia. Our videos on YouTube have been viewed over 25 million times. We’ve had interviews published in The Guardian, The Hairpin, The Washington Blade, The Hush Project, Glamour magazine, Flurt magazine, Diva magazine and The Huffington Post. We’ve held LGBT meet-ups in London, Detroit, Chicago and Phoenix. We’ve tried our best to utilize our internet platform as a community building tool, to bring together groups of people who can talk to one another when they need a friend, some advice, or simply a shoulder to cry on.
Kaelyn and I receive hundreds of letters a week from people who have gone through everything you could possibly imagine. Their stories are heartfelt, inspiring, upsetting and painful. We laugh with them, we cry with them, and we find ourselves in awe, time and time again, by the sheer strength, tenacity and courage that they show. The message of these stories is always clear: love wins over hate, every single time.
And then I realize that it’s stories that have kept me alive. Fact or fiction, real-life or fantasy, they’ve made me who I am today. From the magical world of witches, wizards and colour catching, to Chely Wright’s story of survival, acceptance and self-love, these narratives have encouraged me, motivated me, and kept me going.
Sharing stories is an inherently human thing. We pass them down from generation to generation, and something about the way they’re told keeps us coming back for more. For every person on this planet, there’s a story that’s waiting to be heard, shared or retold. For each of those stories, there will be something that stands out – maybe a sentence or phrase, or even just a word – something that sticks with you. This is the phrase you mull over in difficult times. This is the sentence you think about to spur yourself on when the going gets tough. This is the word you get tattooed on your body, or printed on a poster, or worn around your wrist on a bracelet. Because this is the reason we tell stories. We tell them to survive.
It’s surreal to think of how far I’ve come, and how on earth I’ve ended up here, in this exact spot. I like to think that it’s because I have inner strength, and maybe that’s partly it, but I know it’s not the only reason. Life has thrown its fair share of craziness at me, and I’ve dealt with it as best I could – but I’ve been lucky. Very lucky. When I’m finding life hard and nothing seems to be going my way, I’ve always reached out to the people that are closest to me. And time and time again, I’m reminded of how much I am loved, how much I love, and how important love is, because it really does make the world go round.
Who are your top LGBTQA role models?
Ellen Page is someone I have looked up to for years! She’s so intelligent and articulate.
What’s the most important piece of advice you would give to someone who is planning to come out to friends and family?
Make sure you’re doing it because you feel comfortable doing so, and not because someone else is pressuring you. Rehearse what you want to say beforehand, stay calm, and remember that as long as you love yourself, you don’t need approval from anyone else.
What’s your favourite thing about living in the US?
The fact that I can get Chipotle delivered to my door, any time of day or night.
What do you miss most about the UK?
My family, my friends and marmite.
Where would your and Kaelyn’s dream date take place?
We both love calm, quiet places, so probably a nice secluded beach that has margaritas on tap.
What’s the most annoying thing about Kaelyn?
She never throws anything away. There is a bag of clothes and shoes in our wardrobe that are from when she was NINE. Those shoes aren’t gonna fit you anymore, Kaelyn, no matter how hard you squish those toes…
What annoys her about you?
I went in the other room to ask her this and she just looked at me and whispered, “Everything.” I think she was joking. I think.
Do you have any celeb crushes?
Ellen Page, Taylor Swift, Shay Mitchell, Gillian Anderson… the list is never-ending, to be honest!
What’s your most embarrassing moment?
> I repeatedly wear my clothes inside out and/or back to front, and not realize for the entire day. The number of times I’ve looked in the mirror and thought, Hang on a second…
What’s your best quality?
I’m very loyal, and I’m really good at doing accents.
Do you have any nicknames for Kaelyn?
I call her Bubba Squibbs. One day I’m gonna put it on a T-shirt and make her wear it.
Who would you like to play you in the movie of your life?
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been told I look like Emily Kinney. So probably her – or maybe Dakota Fanning.
What’s your guiltiest pleasure?
ABBA.
What is your greatest fear?
That I’ll get appendicitis on a plane. I’m also terrified of velvet.
If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would they be?
Crazy cat lady.
What single thing would you take with you to a desert island?
One of those really obnoxiously shaped pool floats. I saw one in the supermarket the other day shaped like a pretzel. That’s the only thing anyone would ever truly need on a desert island.
I’d like to thank my editors at Scholastic, Helen, Emily and Sam, for their expert help throughout the creation of this book. Your advice and support has propelled this project forwards in ways I could never have imagined, and I’m so grateful to the three of you for believing in me and this crazy idea!
Kaelyn – you’ve been my absolute rock for the last six years and I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. Thank you for being the best thing that’s ever been mine. Here’s to taking on the world together.
I’d also like to thank each and every one of my friends. Thank you for being so utterly, unconditionally supportive right from the get go. I’m not sure what I did to deserve such wonderful people in my life, but I’m so incredibly grateful that you all exist. Here’s to many more nights spent in our local pub, crowded around a single packet of Wotsits.
And lastly, I’d like to thank my cats. I know you can’t read, but the three of you were always in the room when I was writing this book so I feel like, in a way, you wrote it with me. Sort of. Thanks for sitting on my laptop keys when I was trying to type, ripping up pages and pages of my notes with your teeth when I wasn’t looking, and attacking my face and hair when I tried to pet your bellies. That’s true love right there.
Girl Hearts Girl Page 13
