by Alice Oseman
I think maybe Clara can’t tell when she’s making people uncomfortable. Charlie keeps glancing towards where Grandma and Grandad are sitting, making sure they can’t hear anything from our table. Charlie doesn’t want to come out to Grandma and Grandad yet because we think they might be a bit homophobic. Lots of old people are, unfortunately.
“And you met at school, did you?”
I wish Clara would just shut up. This isn’t her fucking business.
“Yeah.” Charlie forces a laugh. “Did Uncle Ant tell you all this, or …?”
“Oh God, yes, you know what he’s like.”
Esther watches Charlie carefully. Rosanna is trying to plait Oliver’s hair, much to Oliver’s irritation. Clara continues, “You should totally bring him to ours tomorrow.”
Esther meets her eye and grins. “Oh my God, yes.”
We go to their house every year for Boxing Day, and boyfriends and girlfriends are always welcome, but so far that has only included Clara’s numerous and ever-changing boyfriends, three of which have been called Chris, all of which looked almost identical.
Charlie smiles awkwardly. “Oh, I think he’s doing stuff with his family tomorrow.”
Clara pouts. “Aw, that’s a shame.” And then her piercing gaze swaps to me. “What about you, Tori? Any lovely men in your life?”
I fight down the urge to hysterically laugh. “Um. No. Haha. No.”
Clara does the laughing for me. “Oh gosh, you are not missing much, I promise you that. Straight boys are the absolute worst.” She points her fork towards Oliver. “Let’s all hope that this one turns out better.”
“He totally might not be straight,” Esther finally pitches in. Her voice sounds startlingly like Clara’s, though she doesn’t quite look the Made-in-Chelsea posh-girl part. I think I like Esther more than Clara. We’ve had some okay conversations about Doctor Who.
“You’re so right,” says Clara, leaning on one hand, gazing at Oliver like he’s a new-born. “Charlie, when did you know you were gay?”
Charlie’s eyes widen in fear at the prospect of having to embark on this conversation, but thankfully, at that moment, Dad appears at the head of the table, still with his apron on over his shirt and waistcoat, and a Christmas cracker crown hanging dangerously off the top of his head. “How’s everybody doing over here?” He looks specifically at Charlie and claps him on the shoulder. “Everyone doing okay?”
For the first time, I have a look at Charlie’s plate. He does appear to have eaten some of it, which is a very good sign, since Charlie didn’t even like roast dinner that much before he got ill. However, he hasn’t eaten half as much as the rest of us, and Dad’s making that fact painfully obvious to everyone present.
Clara and Esther and all the family know that Charlie was in the hospital and that it wasn’t a normal type of hospital. But I don’t think that they know exactly why he had to go there. What happened.
Mum and Dad don’t ever talk about it.
They refuse to talk about it.
“We’re fine,” I say, before anyone else can beat me to it.
Dad meets my eyes and gives me a little nod. “All right-y. Let me know if you need any more to drink.” He wanders back to his table.
Clara starts having a loud conversation with Esther about how turkeys are cared for and then slaughtered. They seem to get on quite well, like Charlie and I do, which is cool. I have no idea what it must be like to have a sister but I expect it’s useful to be able to share clothes.
Charlie turns to me and says quietly, “He’s so pester-y.”
I don’t really want to say it, but I do anyway. “I think he might just be worried.”
Charlie rolls his eyes. “Can’t I just have a normal …” But his voice dies away and he goes back to staring at his plate.
He doesn’t say much more for the whole meal, which means that I have to suffer through a horrific question and answer session from Rosanna about all of my school friends, and then Esther wants an update on what TV shows I watch, and then Clara gets started on the whole “so what are you thinking about for university” thing, to which my answer is simply, “I’m not.”
Charlie keeps taking out his phone and texting under the table, which kind of starts to piss me off, but I don’t really want to annoy him, as everyone else in this family is doing that already.
I manage to escape the cousin trio after dinner and sit quietly with Grandma, who has fallen asleep on the sofa, so I check my own phone.
(11:07) Becky Allen
Lol lol lol lol lol I’m so glad i’m an only child.
(11:09) MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU INSOMNIAC
(11:10) Love u bby xxxxxxxxxxxxx
(12:22) Dad got me the new Call of Duty. See you in my next life x
(14:01) Mum’s so drunk already. Can your family adopt me?
(14:54) MUM IS DANCING ON A CHAIR
(14:59) #SaveBecky
“How are you feeling, anyway, Charlie?”
Uncle Ant’s voice snaps my attention away from my phone. Uncle Ant is very much like Clara – big on gossip, big on talking about deep things, generally very irritating. He’s a large man, sort of a large version of Dad but without a beard, and always looks out of place with his absolutely miniscule wife. He’s sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, facing Charlie, who’s next to me on the sofa.
“Er …” Charlie’s eyes widen as he searches for something to say. “Oh, I’m much better now.”
“It’s so nice that you could come back for Christmas. Can’t imagine what Christmas must be like in a place like that.”
Noticeable tension draws up around us. The grandparents are luckily all having a separate conversation on the other sofa, and Mum and Dad are absent from the room, but Uncle Ant and Aunt Jules, all our cousins and various miscellaneous relatives now have their full attention on Charlie. Charlie’s hands curl into fists.
“Actually, it was pretty good there,” he says. “Like, they were all really helpful and nice. And it all got decorated for Christmas, so … erm … yeah …”
I really need to think of something to say to stop this conversation but, as always, I can’t think of anything.
“Oh, I’m sure,” continues Uncle Ant. “But you hear some horror stories, don’t you? White walls and straitjackets and all.”
Aunt Jules laughs and whacks Uncle Ant playfully on the arm. “Oh, come on now, Antonio, no mental hospitals are really like that. This isn’t the 1950s, darling.” She shoots a creepily wide grin at Charlie. “We’re all very happy that Charlie’s all better and back with us, aren’t we?”
“Absolutely,” says Uncle Ant.
“Thanks,” says Charlie, but he looks like he’s about to throw up.
“And how are you, Tori?” asks Aunt Jules. “How’s sixth form going?”
I begin to recite the classic answer to this question (“It’s fine / it’s a lot harder than GCSEs / it’s nice not to have to do P.E. any more”), and as I do Charlie gets up and leaves the room. I excuse myself and follow him at my earliest opportunity, trying not to hate Ant and Jules as much as I actually do. It baffles me sometimes that people can just say stuff like that. That people can just have no idea about things.
I wander down the hallway and almost go to enter the kitchen, but stop when I see Charlie and Mum inside, standing in front of each other as if they’re having a sort of face-off.
“Do you want us to talk about it or do you not want us to talk about it? You’re being very immature, Charlie.”
“How am I being immature?”
“You’re acting like a baby who just wants everyone’s attention all of the time.”
“I don’t want people’s attention, that’s the f–– that’s the problem.”
Mum rips her washing-up gloves off her hands. “Look, everyone’s aware that this is a difficult Christmas for you, but the least you could do would be to let everyone else have a nice time, even if you’re determined to feel as sorry for yourself as poss
ible.”
“It’s just you people who are feeling sorry for me and it’s pissing me off!”
“Language.”
“Half the time you refuse to even acknowledge that I have a fucking problem, and the other half you try as hard as possible to make me feel like I’m fucking disabled.”
And that’s when Mum snaps.
“GET OUT!” She points towards the door. “Just … get out.”
Charlie doesn’t say anything at all. He turns around, walks away, exits the room and finds me there. Mum disappears out of view and Charlie stands there, looking down at me.
“I’m going to Nick’s,” he says, in what he tries to make a calm voice.
“Oh,” I say.
He turns around and starts putting his shoes on.
“Please don’t,” I say.
“I can’t …” He stands back up. “I can’t deal with –” he gestures towards the living room and the kitchen – “all of that.”
“It’s Christmas, though,” I say.
“Let’s be honest,” he continues as if he hadn’t heard me, “I’m just the joke of the family, anyway.”
“You’re not.”
He reaches into the porch and grabs his coat. “This winter’s been the fucking worst.”
He picks up a spare key and opens the door. It’s raining. The cold comes in.
I want to cry. I want to do anything to stop him from leaving.
“Can’t you at least spend Christmas with me?” I say.
He turns back. His eyes are watery. His jeans are supposed to be skinny but they’re just baggy on him. “What does that mean?”
“You spend all of your time with Nick anyway.”
He starts to shout at me. "That's because he treats me as something other than a fucking anorexic!"
I stay quite still.
"I do too …" I say, but my voice trails off.
“Sorry,” he says, but he’s already leaving. “I’ll see you later.”
The door closes and I don’t move.
I look down at my grey skirt and I really wish I was wearing jeans. I don’t feel like myself. I realise I still have my cracker crown on, so I take it off and tear it into several pieces.
I probably should have seen this coming.
He’s being unfair, but I don’t have any right to be annoyed at him.
I walk back into the kitchen. Mum is still washing up. I walk up to her, and her face looks like stone. Like ice, maybe. There’s a pause, and then she says, “You know, I’m trying really hard.”
I don’t really know what to say to that, so I walk out of the kitchen and sit on the landing stairs.
Oliver runs past me with one of his new tractors.
I go into the porch and open the door to see whether Charlie is just sitting on the curb at the end of our driveway. But he isn’t. Winter is usually my favourite season, but Charlie’s right – this winter has been the worst. I sit down on the porch, my feet sticking out of the doorframe. There are some fairy lights outside someone’s house across the road, but the more I look at them, the dimmer they seem to get. It doesn’t feel like Christmas.
I think I’m trying really hard too. I sit with him at every mealtime, even when he cries and shouts at me. I ask him how he is every day and sometimes he tells me. I started being his friend as well as his sister.
But maybe that’s the wrong thing to do. I don’t know any more. Sometimes I want to just stop trying altogether. Just stop doing anything at all.
Not that that matters. I don’t matter. He matters.
A car drives past. It’s getting sort of dark now. Dark and cold and rainy. I think about how nice that is, and then I laugh to myself. Since when did they become my favourite things?
CHARLES FRANCIS SPRING, 15
Nick Nelson
(00:01) Happy Christmas you xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie Spring
(00:02) happy christmas xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx i love you loads
(00:02) Nick Nelson
(00:02) Go to sleep you mug
(00:03) (I love you loads too xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)
*
Charlie Spring
(06:31) oliver’s waking victoria up with the musical xmas card i bought him hahahahahaha
(06:32) i don’t know why i’m laughing, i’m awake too
(06:32) Oh how the tables turn
Nick Nelson
(10:40) HAHAHA.
(10:40) This has to be the latest I have ever woken up on Christmas Day.
*
Charlie Spring
(13:23) DID YOU GET A DOG
Nick Nelson
(13:30) YES WE GOT A PUG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Charlie Spring
(13:31) WELL I’M GOING TO DIE
Nick Nelson
(13:32) I’M ALREADY DEAD
(13:34) [Nick selfie with pug puppy]
Charlie Spring
(13:35) unfair
Nick Nelson
(13:36) Another reason for you to come over later.
Charlie Spring
(13:37) the pug is now the only reason
Nick Nelson
(13:38) Stop texting me loser. Go be sociable.
Charlie Spring
(13:38)
Nick Nelson
(13:39) <3
Charlie Spring
(13:51) a dog is for life
(13:51) not just for christmas
Nick Nelson
(13:53) Dog is life
Charlie Spring
(13:54) ball is life
Nick Nelson
(13:55) That’s what Henry the Pug said.
Charlie Spring
(13:56) HENRY
Nick Nelson
(13:57) I know.
Charlie Spring
(13:57) that’s a name for a train, not a dog
Nick Nelson
(13:58) Have you been watching Thomas the tank engine with Oliver again?
Charlie Spring
(13:58) maybe
Nick Nelson
(13:59) Nerd
Charlie Spring
(13:59) u love it
Nick Nelson
(14:00) Yes your interest in trains turns me on greatly
Charlie Spring
(14:01) screenshotted for future reference
Nick Nelson
(14:02) GO AND SOCIALISE YOU ABSOLUTE TRAIN NERD
*
Charlie Spring
(15:14) hey can i come over earlier than i said i would?
Nick Nelson
(15:17) Yeah of course, what’s up?? You ok?
Charlie Spring
(15:23) yeah family’s just being a bit annoying
(15:24) i’m the novelty gay cousin
Nick Nelson
(15:25) Oh Char you don’t wanna just stick it out with tori for a bit?
Charlie Spring
(15:29) she can’t really do anything to help tbh
(15:34) i can just come over later if you’re busy
Nick Nelson
(15:35) It’s busy but jesus I could do with a break. Seriously it’s fucking chaos in this house.
(15:35) There are talks of all the people under 25 having to put on some kind of fucking awful Christmas panto
(15:36) Mum’s downed two bottles of Merlot and put the Michael Bublé Christmas album on. There are people over 50 dancing in the lounge. I think I recognise like twenty percent of the people here.
(15:36) Feel free to come over whenever, I need a break from the madness xxxx
Charlie Spring
(15:37) ok i’ll leave in a bit xxxxxx
Nick Nelson
(15:38) You okay though? <3
Charlie Spring
(15:39) i’m fine <3
I’m quite aware that it’s my fault that my family are annoyed with me, so I guess the best way to sort that out is to just go away completely. I’m very much in favour of ‘sorting things out’ when I have a problem, rather than just letting it carry on and irritate everyo
ne. The more I think about that, the more that explains the stupid things that I’ve done.
The one stupid thing that fucked up the lives of every single person close to me.
I also know I’m a hypocritical piece of shit. I complain all the time about people feeling sorry for me, but I still manage to be as dramatic as possible, running away to my boyfriend’s house on Christmas Day, trying not to start crying and/or ruin Christmas for everyone. What the hell are people supposed to do when I act like this? Way to live up to my ‘crazy person’ stereotype.
I know Victoria’s trying her best to help. I feel kind of bad for running out on her like that. Out of everyone in my family, she’s probably being the most considerate, and I seriously do appreciate her. She doesn’t pester and she doesn’t avoid the issue, which my parents are apparently pros at. Victoria gets straight to the point when she needs to, but doesn’t try to force it when I don’t want to talk about something. I don’t feel like some incapacitated maniac when I’m talking to her.
To be honest, I am a lot better now. I’m not back to normal – whatever that is – but I actually eat physical food now. I feel like there’s a chance I could at least cope with my food problems, even if I never manage to get completely cured. When I first got to the hospital, I refused to eat anything and I had to survive on these high calorie drinks. And I hated the hospital at first, obviously. But then, after weeks of talking to the people looking after me and the other teenagers staying there and Nick and Victoria and my parents when they came to visit me, I started to realise how ill I was. And why I’d ended up there.
It’s because I was actually dying.
And now I’m not dying.
So that’s good.
I got together with Nick Nelson in April, a couple of weeks before my fifteenth birthday. I didn’t like eating in front of anyone then, but I hadn’t stopped eating yet. That came in the summer. I don’t know exactly why I stopped eating. I think I just loved the feeling of being in control of something when everything else in my life felt so uncontrollable – school work, needing to be the best all the time, being the only openly gay person in my year group, feeling like Nick could leave me at any second, feeling like he could just leave and I would have nothing left.
But I couldn’t even control that, in the end. It took control of me.
And yeah, I guess it wasn’t a very normal start to a relationship. I was surprised Nick wanted to go out with me in the first place, even if I hadn’t had eating issues. I thought he was straight until about March.
