Five months after Grandpa.
Back to square one in the grief stakes.
A double blow. Two deaths in one year.
She imagines the smile that will follow her words. The sad kind, the I’m-trying-to-look-better-than-I-am smile, the I-don’t-know-how-to-cope grimace, the people-think-I-should-be-crying-but-my-tears-are-all-dried-up chuckle.
But, somehow, she knows it’ll be easier to cope this time. The deepest cracks in her heart are slowly perfused by the love her mother and friends have shown her, ensuring her that even the most insidious of scars will heal. She’s never realised how powerful and liberating the simple act of opening up her heart and talking to someone about her struggles could be — how her burdens could be lessened by the presence of a listening ear. Every prayer, every word of comfort, every moment spent together, reminds her of the greater love, the greater vision and preciousness of life.
Mental illness is just as every other illness — if a cold needs time to heal, why did she expect herself to be exempt from the same process?
Ads for cheap flights to Shanghai flash up on her Facebook newsfeed as she looks down at it in the waiting room.
It’s September. She imagines she won’t be missing another Australian summer for the coldness of China for a very long time to come.
JESSICA WALTON
Jessica Walton, Melbourne-based emerging author and disability advocate, is a cisgender, bisexual/queer, disabled, white woman with Irish heritage. Her disability is physical, stemming from childhood cancer (osteosarcoma) that resulted in the amputation of her left leg above the knee. She lives with anxiety and chronic pain, including phantom pain — the sensation that her amputated limb is still there. Jessica writes, ‘As a queer, disabled teenager I never had stories about people like me. When I was eighteen, my girlfriend (now wife) introduced me to websites where queer people were writing themselves into stories. Reading them was a powerful experience for me, but it still meant something the first time I read a queer character in a published book. I didn’t find a book with a queer amputee character until I was in my thirties. ‘Stars In Our Eyes’ is the kind of story I would have liked to read as a teenager. I want to live in a world where LGBTIQA+ and disabled characters are as common on the page as they are in the real world.’
Stars in Our Eyes
‘So who would you kiss: Rey, Rose, Finn or Po?’
I sighed. Mum kept forgetting that daydreaming about being Star Wars characters and making out with other Star Wars characters was her hobby, not mine. She has always been Star Wars obsessed. One of my earliest memories was unwrapping a Christmas present I’d hoped was a teddy bear. Mum still had a photo of me in the tiny Chewbacca costume she’d given me instead.
‘God, Mum. They’re all way too old for me. But you know Rey is aromantic asexual, so let’s at least take her off the list.’
‘But Reylo!’
‘No. For the last time Mum, no.’
‘Who then?’
‘Easy. Barb from Stranger Things.’
‘Oh, Maisie, I can see it right now. My daughter, saving poor Barb from the Demogorgon.’
‘Or Stevonnie!’
‘From Steven Universe? Oh, excellent choice!’
‘You know most parents don’t watch Steven Universe, right?’
‘I’m trying to stay hip.’
‘Who are you snogging, then?’
Mum took one hand off the steering wheel to press it to her heart. ‘You know who I love!’
‘I can’t believe you want to kiss Han Solo.’
‘I can’t believe there’s anyone alive who doesn’t want to kiss Han Solo,’ Mum laughed. ‘Say you love me, Maisie.’
Mum’s way of saying, remember. Remember you have me and I have you, no matter what.
‘I love you.’
‘I know!’
She was laughing again as we pulled into the carpark of the hotel where the Stars in Our Eyes convention was being held. I opened my window and stuck my head out as we neared the disabled bays.
‘They’re all full, Mum! Don’t worry, just park wherever and I’ll do the walk.’
‘Let’s wait a minute. I have a feeling.’
‘There is no way anyone is leaving these parking spots this close to the start time.’
But as soon as the words left my mouth, one of the cars began backing out.
‘There’s no WAY anyone is leaving these parking spots,’ said Mum in her sarcastic fake-Maisie voice as she pulled into the bay and turned off the engine.
‘How’d you know?’
‘I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.’
She eyed me hopefully. I gave her the Yoda imitation I knew she was looking for. ‘The Force is strong with this one.’
I opened my door, twisting my body around so I could swing my prosthetic leg out. I could feel a painful buzzing sensation starting deep in my lower back. If I didn’t do something about it soon it’d turn into a razor-sharp spasm shooting from my back down into my stump, and then beyond it, into my phantom limb, which had been gone for almost five years. I patted my pocket to make sure my painkillers were there. I just needed to find food first, so they didn’t make me sick.
Mum was at my side. ‘I heard they’ve got food stalls inside.’ She’d noticed me touching my pocket. ‘We should have time to get something before the first panel.’
Her voice was too cheerful, the way it got when she didn’t want me to know she was worrying about me. It was how I always knew when she was worrying.
‘I’m okay, Mum.’
‘I know that! I just …’ She stopped, shaking her head like she could shake off the worry.
‘Really, I’m fine.’
We walked in silence for a while, then Mum said, ‘So, are you getting Kara Bufano to sign your Midnight Girls book today?’
Her voice was still too cheerful, but not as bad. I rolled my eyes. ‘You don’t get actors from a film adaptation to sign the original book, Mum! You only get the author to sign the book. How are you so clueless? I’ll get Kara to sign my convention t-shirt, once I have one.’
‘Rightio,’ said Mum. ‘I don’t get the appeal of signatures. I’d rather have a memorable moment with someone I admire. You know, something meaningful.’
‘Hey! I want a memorable, meaningful moment with them too, but I want it captured in an epic Instagram selfie while wearing or holding up a limited-edition thingamabob with their signature on it!’
‘You’re weird.’
‘You’re weirder.’
We’d reached the volunteers taking tickets. I ended up in front of a tall, lanky teenager with long black hair, freckles, and green eyes. At least, they were mostly green. There were flecks of brown and gold in them too.
‘Hi, um, do you have a ticket?’
I’d been staring. My cheeks heated up. I handed the tickets over, avoiding looking at those extraordinary eyes. That was when I noticed the t-shirt — black and covered in glitter with the words NON-BINARY STAR SYSTEM in shimmery silver across the front.
‘Nice t-shirt!’
‘Thanks. I like puns. Oh hey, I love your t-shirt, too!’
That would be the t-shirt that said ‘IT’S RUDE TO STARE’. Great, Maisie. You stared while wearing a t-shirt telling people off for staring.
I hurried to explain. ‘I get sick of people looking at me when I’m limping, or when they realise I have a prosthetic leg.’
‘I get it. I’m sick of people assuming they know my gender and pronouns.’
‘What are your pronouns?’
‘They/them. What about you?’
‘She/her. Also, I’m Maisie.’
‘Nice to meet you. I’m Ollie.’
I looked up into their eyes again. My tummy did a somersault.
Not now, tummy. Get it together.
‘So, um, thanks for taking our tickets.’ Smooth, Maisie. Real smooth.
‘It’s nothing. It’s my job,’ said Ollie. ‘Not that I’m getting paid. I m
ean, I’m getting free entry, so I guess that’s … anyway, it’s fine.’
There was a quiet chuckle behind me. Mum reached across to shake their hand.
‘Hi Ollie! I’m Maisie’s mum. You’re a bit young to be doing door duties alone, aren’t you?’
‘Mum, be cool,’ I muttered.
‘I’m fifteen,’ Ollie replied. ‘That’s old enough to be a volunteer here, if I’m with my dad. He just ducked inside to grab us drinks.’
Mum beamed at me. ‘We should volunteer when you turn fifteen next year!’ She turned the smile on Ollie. ‘Do you have any panel recommendations?’
‘Fantasy Queers is the one I’m hanging out for.’
‘Me, too!’ I said.
‘Maisie’s been talking about that panel for weeks.’ Mum ruffled my hair and added proudly, ‘She just came out to me as bi a few weeks ago.’
I gasped. ‘Holy shit, Mum, I told you to be cool!’
‘Hey, I’m bi too,’ said Ollie. ‘Welcome to the dark side.’
Mum opened her mouth, no doubt to say something even more embarrassing. I dragged her away, throwing Ollie an apologetic glance as we went. They smiled. It made their eyes sparkle.
Mum nudged me. ‘Ollie likes you!’
I glared at her. ‘Mum, you outed me to a stranger! You know that’s not okay, right?’
Mum’s shoulders slumped. ‘But … I could tell you liked them! And … and … thanks to me we’ve established that you’re both bi, and you’re both going to Fantasy Queers.’
She’d really thought she was helping, and she sort of had, even if it had been in an awkward, super-embarrassing, boundary-disrespecting kind of way. I couldn’t keep up the glare.
Mum brightened as I stopped frowning, and added, ‘Plus, most importantly, they’ve already met their future mother-in-law, and she approves.’
‘Oh my god, Mum. I love you, but … try and be cool if we run into Ollie again.’
I took a step forward, and stopped. The hotel lobby was big. The rooms beyond it were big. There were rows and rows of stalls and people everywhere, talking and jostling and buying things. Some were in awesome costumes. I loved the costumes, but there were too many people.
Mum squeezed my arm. ‘Don’t worry, kiddo. You’ll get used to it.’
I wouldn’t. I never did. But I knew how to manage it. I focused on my breathing, getting it nice and slow and steady, then I looked at my shoelaces. I counted each of the eyelets and took note of the way each lace passed through each hole. Finally, my anxiety passed. No one was staring at me right now, even though it felt like it. They weren’t hostile. They were just a bunch of people in the same place at the same time. Some of them might even be feeling as exposed and alone as I did in crowds. I let the noise of the people wash over me and took a deep breath. ‘I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.’
‘That’s my girl,’ Mum said. ‘Let’s go find some food.’
We settled into our seats, waiting for Predicting the Future: Dystopia or Utopia to start. I hated the chairs they used at events like this. My prosthetic foot didn’t reach the floor, meaning my leg was just kind of hanging from my body as I sat. Even with the painkillers I’d taken earlier, I knew my back would get really sore if I didn’t do something. I grabbed my backpack from under the seat and positioned it beneath my feet.
Next to Fantasy Queers, this was the panel I’d been looking forward to most. I couldn’t quite believe I was about to see Kara Bufano, Luna herself, in the flesh. An amputee. Like me. I loved the way Luna valued her vulnerability and sensitivity, defending them as strengths she brought to a team full of hardened, kick-arse warriors. Nightshade might be the main character, but Luna was the heart of the Midnight Girls.
I was lost in a daydream of myself as Luna when a sweaty, nervous volunteer ruined the moment. ‘I’m sorry everyone,’ he said into the mic. ‘Kara Bufano is feeling unwell and can’t make it to the panel. She’s being treated by our very qualified first aid team—’
He kept talking but I didn’t hear anything else. Kara wasn’t coming. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to get up, walk to the car, and go home.
I knew I was being ridiculous. It was one panel. One person.
One person who was an amputee like me. One person who made me feel like maybe I could be a superhero, too.
‘I’m so sorry sweetheart.’ Mum said. ‘But they said she’s being treated — maybe there’ll be a chance to see her later.’
I nodded. I couldn’t push words past the lump in my throat. A tear slid down my cheek. I’ve got to pull myself together. I focused on the Fantasy Queers panel. Would there be many other teens in the audience? Would they be queer teens? It wasn’t the same as seeing Luna. But it was still something. It was still a chance to meet people like me. I loved my town, but it’s not like there were pride parades or queer social events back home.
Mum suddenly started waving enthusiastically. ‘OLLIE! OVER HERE!’
I wiped at my cheeks as Ollie and their dad came over. Ollie sat next to me, and their dad sat next to them. The two of us were bookended by parentals. Not an ideal second-conversation-with-your-new-crush situation.
‘Hello again, Ollie!’ Mum said, bending forward to see past me. ‘And hello Ollie’s dad. I’m Jo.’
‘That’s weird, so am I,’ he said.
‘You’re Jo, too?’
‘Joe two, even.’ Ollie’s dad held up two of his fingers. ‘Get it?’
Ollie looked as embarrassed as I was sure I had earlier.
‘Oh my god, Dad.’
Ollie’s dad grinned at them, then said to Mum, ‘I might come and sit next to you so these kids can catch up.’
I heaved a sigh of relief as he moved over to Mum and the two of them starting chatting. Ollie and I had as much privacy as we were going to get with my mum and their dad right next to us.
I tried to think of something to say to Ollie. Nothing seemed cool enough.
Then they spoke, ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just … Kara Bufano is sick, so she’s not doing any panels. She’s kind of why we came to Stars In Our Eyes in the first place.’
‘That sucks. Midnight Girls is awesome. Everyone’s always telling me to read the book.’
‘It’s so good! I’ll show you my copy. The illustrations are epic.’
‘So you’re a massive, proper Midnight Girls fan? I’m here for Twisted Beasts.’
‘Oh, I love that show! RELEASE THE KRAKEN!’
‘It’s the first time I’ve ever seen myself in anything.’ Ollie said. ‘Asterion is me, basically.’
‘Except for the bull head.’
‘I only put that on occasionally.’
‘Midnight Girls was that show for me.’ I told them. ‘First time seeing an actual amputee playing an amputee on screen.’
‘Shame her character’s not bi, too.’
‘She is in my head.’
‘I hear you.’
There was a sudden burst of laughter to my right.
‘Bloody hell, Dad,’ Ollie muttered. ‘Ease up on the braying.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘My mum laughs like a drunken chipmunk.’
‘What do you sound like when you laugh?’
‘Guess you’ll have to say something funny if you want to know.’
Ollie smiled a smile that lit up the gold in their eyes. ‘I’ll work on that.’
We lounged on the couches, just Ollie and me. Their dad and my mum had taken the hint and left us alone. Ollie had been reading my copy of Midnight Girls. I’d been drawing in my sketchbook. I didn’t know how long the parentals had been gone. It seemed like Ollie and me were in a bubble of time all our own that stretched on forever. Only it didn’t. Ollie was from a small town like me, but their town was a long way from mine. We didn’t have forever. We only had today.
I took out the drawing I’d been working on and handed it to them. ‘Here. Present for you.’
Ollie stared down at the
page. ‘Maisie, wow. This is amazing!’
They really like it! I hope they get it. They can’t not get it, Luna’s blowing Asterion a kiss!
Ollie didn’t say anything else. Just sat there, looking at the page. Oh no, I wonder if it was too much? What if they don’t like me like that? ‘I’m sorry — I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable …’
Ollie shook their head. ‘It isn’t that. No one back home really gets me, or likes the shows and books I like, and … yeah. Sorry. This is just so awesome. Asterion actually looks like me here.’ Their mouth twisted. ‘Guess we can be whoever we want, in pictures.’
‘Maybe we can be in real life too. Our own kind of superhero, at least …’
‘Yeah. Maybe.’
They didn’t sound convinced. ‘Hey, I’m an awkward hugger, but you could use a hug right now, yeah?’
Ollie stood up and I did too. I prepared myself for the usual uncomfortable balance fail, but instead found myself snuggling into their chest with Ollie resting their chin rest gently on the top of my head. We were two people, leaning in and holding each other up, and it didn’t feel awkward at all.
It felt like what life should be like.
I walked toward Fantasy Queers with Ollie’s hand in mine, feeling giddy and happy. Once I was settled in my seat, backpack under my feet, I pulled out my phone.
We’re here, Mum. Front row, in the middle. You on your way?
UM. NO. I MAY HAVE FALLEN OVER A FOLD OUT CHAIR. I DON’T THINK I’LL MAKE THIS PANEL. OLLIE’S DAD IS ON HIS WAY TO CHECK ON BOTH OF YOU.
Mum! Are you OK?!?
I’M FINE. JUST NEEDED A BANDAID OR TWO ON MY KNEE. IT’S BANGED UP BUT I DON’T THINK THEY’LL HAVE TO AMPUTATE. THERE’S A NICE FIRST AIDER HERE FUSSING OVER ME. I EVEN GOT A CUP OF TEA.
Let me know if you need me, Mum. I’m a bit worried.
I’M WORRIED TOO. WANT TO MAKE SURE YOU AND OLLIE AREN’T JOINED AT THE TONSILS YET. IF YOU ARE, THE FIRST AIDERS MAY HAVE SOME KIND OF TREATMENT FOR THAT. LET ME KNOW.
Gross, Mum. We were just talking.
LIKELY STORY.
I’m putting my phone away, you weirdo.
Meet Me at the Intersection Page 5
