by KE Payne
Twiggy: No, course not! The Internet’s just another way of meeting people, isn’t it? Just like you could meet someone down at the supermarket or out walking your dog. No one dictates where you meet someone, it just happens, doesn’t it? If it happens over the ’net, so what? Nah, I think it’s cute! As long as he’s not an axe murderer or anything like that! LOL!
Barnaby Rudge: I never thought it would happen to me.
Twiggy: Well, sounds like it has! So who is he?
Barnaby Rudge: Hmm, that’s the thing, Twigs.
Twiggy: Oh God, he’s not married, is he?!
Barnaby Rudge: No!
Twiggy: He’s not one of the actors from the show, is he? Cos I heard they sometimes post on there, anonymously, you know? Now that REALLY would be mega-cute!
Barnaby Rudge: It’s not a bloke.
Twiggy: Oh. I see.
There was a pause as I guessed Twiggy was processing that nugget of information.
Barnaby Rudge: You’ve gone quiet. I don’t like that. LOL.
Twiggy: I didn’t know you were gay, thassall.
Barnaby Rudge: Neither did I. Until recently, anyway!
Twiggy: Oh, right.
Another long pause. I desperately thought of something to say to Twiggy, but nothing would come.
Twiggy: So who is it that’s stolen your heart?
Barnaby Rudge: Someone called Fickle.
Twiggy: Hmm, all right. Don’t think I’ve ever spoken to her, but I think I’ve read some of her posts.
Barnaby Rudge: And the good thing is that she feels the same way about me.
Twiggy: I see.
Barnaby Rudge: I’m getting awkward vibes, Twigs. You want me to go?
Twiggy: No, I’m sorry. You’ll have to bear with this old, married woman. It’s just, I don’t know any gay people, you know? It seems a bit strange talking about it.
Barnaby Rudge: You’re not old! You’re only 24, Twigs!
Twiggy: Yeah, I know. But you’ll still have to bear with me. I just don’t feel so comfortable talking about it, I’m sorry.
Barnaby Rudge: But, but! You watch Lovers and Sinners, that’s got a gay couple in it!
Twiggy: Yeah, but the Ali and Jess stuff is just a small part of the story for me. I’m guessing they’re a big part of it for you?
Barnaby Rudge: Yeah. I thought they were for everyone—they are the main characters after all.
Twiggy: Not for me, sorry. I talk about Pete and Sara far more than I do about Ali and Jess.
Barnaby Rudge: Oh. K. I didn’t realise.
I looked down at my hands, poised over the keyboard. Any euphoria I’d had earlier seemed to disappear and reality arrived to bite me on the bum. Twiggy wasn’t comfortable me talking to her about fancying another girl. I could talk about it with Joey and Fickle quite freely; I s’pose I thought Twiggy liked them as much, but thinking back, we never really ever talked about the story that much, more just about other stuff, like football and stuff.
I felt really deflated. Dirty, even, as though everything me and Twiggy had talked and joked about over the last few weeks counted for nothing. I felt like a stranger to her, and realised that perhaps you sometimes really don’t know who you’re talking to over the Internet after all.
Barnaby Rudge: Twigs? You still there?
Twiggy: Yeah, still here.
Barnaby Rudge: I wish I hadn’t said anything to you now!
Twiggy: I’m sorry, have I upset you? It’s not you, BR, it’s me. I just don’t know any gay people, well, only Joey on here. Not in real life, I mean. It’s just not something I feel familiar with!
I read Twiggy’s last little bit. Not in real life. This wasn’t real life, was it?
Barnaby Rudge: And you’re not comfortable with it?
Twiggy: I dunno!
Barnaby Rudge: But I’m still me, Twigs. I haven’t changed!
Twiggy: I know. I’m sorry. Blame my upbringing, if you like!
Barnaby Rudge: OK, I’m gonna go ’cos this is real awkward.
Twiggy: No, don’t go! Please. Tell me about Fickle. I wanna know, really I do. Make me understand? LOL.
Barnaby Rudge: You sure?
Twiggy: Sure, sure. Please.
Barnaby Rudge: I’m not sure I understand myself, Twigs!
Twiggy: Talk to me. It might help?
Barnaby Rudge: OK, well, we kinda got talking a while ago and I dunno, there was something different about her, something that made her stand out from the others. No offence.
Twiggy: None taken! So how did you find out she liked you too?
Barnaby Rudge: She told me tonight.
Twiggy: Just tonight?!
Barnaby Rudge: Yeah.
Twiggy: And you just finished with Matt the other night? Because of Fickle? You must feel real up and down right now.
Barnaby Rudge: Mainly up. Well, I did anyway. LOL!
Twiggy: And I brought you down again? I’m sorry, I never meant to.
Barnaby Rudge: S’OK.
Twiggy: Are you happy?
Barnaby Rudge: Very! I really like her, Twigs.
Twiggy: That’s kinda cute!
Barnaby Rudge: #blush#
Twiggy: But you didn’t know you were gay until you got talking to Fickle?
Barnaby Rudge: Maybe I thought I might be a bit gay…
Twiggy: LMAO!!! I won’t ask which bit!
Barnaby Rudge: And then Fickle appeared in my life and everything got turned on its head. Everything I thought I knew about myself started getting questioned and I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. All I knew was that the little part of me that thought I was gay suddenly turned into a big part.
Twiggy: And that’s why you finished with Matt?
Barnaby Rudge: Yup. I couldn’t carry on seeing him knowing I wasn’t into him, could I?
Twiggy: Not when you were so into someone else. No, I s’pose not.
Barnaby Rudge: Do you think I’m a bitch?
Twiggy: God, no! Sounds like you’re confused, though.
Barnaby Rudge: But that’s just it, Twigs. I WAS confused, horribly confused. But then I broke up with Matt and Fickle told me she liked me and now…well, everything seems so much clearer.
Twiggy: Until it passes again.
Barnaby Rudge: Until what passes?
Twiggy: Well, what if it’s a phase? You just said yourself you didn’t know you were gay. What if you’re not really gay? What if this really is just a phase? Sounds like Fickle’s heaped a whole load of attention on you and you like it. What if you’ve mistaken her attention for something else?
Barnaby Rudge: Nah, it’s more than that. I liked Fickle waaaay before she started coming onto me.
Twiggy: I’m sorry if I sound like an old fuddy-duddy here, BR, but I just don’t understand how you can be gay if you’ve never been with a woman before!
Barnaby Rudge: Of course you can! I fancy women. I don’t fancy guys! So it’s taken me a while to admit it to myself, but now I have admitted it, it’s as clear as crystal to me that that’s what I am. Gay.
Twiggy: But you went out with a guy!
Barnaby Rudge: And pretty much hated every second of it, Twigs. Both the dating and the sex! LOL. You gotta try something to know whether you’re gonna like it or not, don’t you? And I tried dating a guy and I didn’t like it. Now I wanna date a girl, see if I like it. And you know what? I reckon I AM gonna like it.
Twiggy: I guess.
Barnaby Rudge: Don’t put a downer on it, Twigs.
Twiggy: I’m sorry. It’s tricky for me, yeah, ’cos you’re talking to someone who’s always known she’s 100 percent straight.
Barnaby Rudge: And I now know 100 percent that I’m not straight.
Twiggy: Sooooo, you and Fickle, Chatte Noire and Josh99…this message board’s becoming quite a hotbed of passion!
Barnaby Rudge: I know! And I’m kinda glad you told me about Chatte Noire and Josh ’cos at least it proves it can happen to anyone, right?
Twiggy: Dead on! I guess you’re not going to tell Matt about Fickle, though?
Barnaby Rudge: Shit, no!
Twiggy: Right decision!
Barnaby Rudge: She says she’s gonna ring me tomorrow and I’m bricking it already.
Twiggy: What if she’s got this awful, squeaky, nasally, heavily accented voice and you go right off her??!
Barnaby Rudge: Shuddup, Twigs!
Twiggy: You’ll be fine, BR! Don’t stress about speaking to her, it’ll be good for you to talk to each other. It’ll move things in the right direction for you both as well, if that’s what you want?
Barnaby Rudge: It is what I want, yeah. Sooo much! I feel excited and nervous and unsure and happy and scared and giddy and silly all rolled into one!
Twiggy: Ahhh, that’s love for ya, BR!
Barnaby Rudge: It feels new to me, but it feels great! I’ve been walking around with a grin on my face, looks like someone put a coathanger upside down in my mouth!!
Twiggy: I’m pleased for you, I really am. Gah, I’d better go, BR. I’ve got a stack of ironing waiting for me downstairs. Oh the joy of it!
Barnaby Rudge: K, Twigs. Thanks for listening.
Twiggy: You’re welcome. And I’m sorry again I was a bit weird with you earlier, and I’m sorry if it sounds like I don’t really understand.
Barnaby Rudge: NP.
Twiggy: You around tomorrow?
Barnaby Rudge: Should be.
Twiggy: Till then, then. Good luck with the phone call!
And then she was gone. I looked down at my phone and saw that Joey had texted me back, telling me some tale of falling into a stream and getting her trousers wet, then having to hold them out of the minibus window all the way back to their hostel so she could dry them off. I laughed out loud and wished, for the umpteenth time, that she were around so I could pour my heart out to her. I was sure about one thing with Joey: she would fully understand.
Chapter Twelve
The shrill ringing of my phone startled me a few hours after I’d finished talking to Twiggy and had finally gone to bed. I was propped up, trying to concentrate on reading a magazine, even though my mind frequently wandered to Fickle, when the tinny shriek of “Dancing Queen” sounding out from my phone made me jump. I looked down at my phone briefly, watching as the light from it reflected on and off my ceiling.
I quickly snatched up the phone, worried that it would wake my parents, only registering Fickle’s name flashing on the screen for a split second as I pressed the Answer button and mumbled into it.
“Hey,” I said, stretching my legs out under the duvet.
“Hey yourself.” Fickle’s voice sounded at the other end. I smiled to myself in the dark, remembering Twiggy’s words about hoping Fickle didn’t have a squeaky voice. She didn’t.
“Do you know how late it is to be ringing?” I propped myself up on one elbow and peered through the darkness at my alarm clock. It was nearly midnight.
“I know, I’m sorry.” Fickle spoke softly. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“I know you said you wanted to ring me, but I didn’t think you meant in the dead of night.” I laughed quietly, glancing anxiously at the door, hoping that my parents wouldn’t be able to hear me talking.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’m sorry,” Fickle said. “I was lying in bed thinking about you. I thought if I could just talk to you, hear your voice, then I might be able to stop thinking about you for five minutes and actually get some sleep!”
I listened to her voice speaking in hushed tones and felt a million butterflies flutter in my stomach. It was so damned good to hear what she sounded like, after weeks of just communicating with her through typing away on a keyboard or texting her. To finally hear her voice whispering to me down the telephone made me want her now more than I’d ever done.
“You have a lovely voice,” I found myself saying.
“So do you,” Fickle whispered. “Very sexy, but then I somehow knew you would.”
“You think so?” I laughed.
“I do, yeah.” Fickle laughed back. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Immy. I can’t stop thinking about our conversation tonight.”
“You don’t regret it, do you?” I felt panic rising.
“God, no!” Fickle said. “Do you?”
“Not a second of it,” I replied truthfully.
“Good. ’Cos I meant it, Immy, everything I said.” Fickle lowered her voice. “I really fancy you, you know that?”
There went the butterflies inside me again.
“I really fancy you too, Gem.” It sounded weird, me telling someone—a girl!—that I fancied her, but it sounded weird-good. I liked it.
“You’re sweet and funny and nice, and I never believed I could ever meet someone like you,” Fickle whispered. “I feel very lucky.”
“Do you believe in fate, Gem?” I asked.
“I hadn’t before I met you, but perhaps I should start believing in it,” Fickle replied.
“That’s what I think,” I said, adjusting my position in bed. “Because if I’d never watched Lovers and Sinners, if I’d never found that website, well, then I’d never have met you, would I?”
“And I think meeting you might just about be the best darned thing that’s ever happened to me,” Fickle said gently.
“You think?” I ran my hand through my hair.
“Yeah, I think.” Fickle laughed, adding, “No, I know!”
There was a bit of an awkward pause before Fickle then said:
“Are you in bed?”
“Yeah.” I leant back against my pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” Fickle sighed and paused. “I wish I was with you right now.”
“I wish you were here too,” I said, thinking how great it would be to have Fickle next to me in my bed, stroking her hair, holding her, talking to her in the dead of night.
“I feel really happy.” Fickle laughed. “Happy and relaxed. See? I knew all I needed was to hear you and you’d soothe me. I just needed you, Immy.”
“You have me, Gem,” I whispered.
“I’ll text you in the morning, yeah?” I could hear Fickle stifle a yawn, making me want to yawn too. “Will you be on MSN tomorrow night?”
“Of course!” I said. “I’ll be on after dinner, okay?”
“I miss you already and you haven’t even gone yet,” Fickle said quietly.
“I miss you too, Gem,” I replied, closing my eyes and picturing her face.
“G’night, Immy. I’m glad you answered your phone. I’m glad I got to talk to you,” Fickle said.
“G’night, Gem,” I replied. “I’m dead glad I answered too. Sleep well.”
“Until tomorrow, yeah?” Fickle stifled another yawn and then was gone.
I stared at my phone, unable to wipe the stupid grin from my face. If I thought I fancied Fickle before tonight, then just hearing her on the phone had made me fancy her a thousand times more! I switched my phone off and shuffled myself down under the duvet, imagining the sound of her voice in my head over and over again until, at last, my eyes finally closed and I fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.
*
The next morning I awoke to eight texts from Fickle, all sent one after the other, all saying pretty much the same thing: that she couldn’t stop thinking about me and she couldn’t wait to speak to me again, and that she’d be thinking about me all day until she got a chance to catch up with me later that evening.
I walked to college feeling so different from all the other times I’d walked to college before. I noticed things: people holding hands, couples in cars together, men, women, wondering if they had someone who was as nuts about them as Fickle seemed to be about me. I grinned, plunging my hands into my jacket pockets, and walked with a dumb, loved-up spring in my step.
I felt very special; the day felt special. Man, LIFE FELT SPECIAL! I was still grinning as I flung open the door to the canteen and heard the muffled ringing of my p
hone from somewhere deep inside my bag. It was Fickle.
“Hey!” I said happily, wandering over to the coffee machine and fishing in my bag for some loose change so I could buy myself what the machine reliably advertised as being a cappuccino, but which tasted something more like hot chocolate.
“Hey, you.” Fickle’s voice sounded at the other end. “I just wanted to hear your voice again.”
I glanced round the canteen, sure that everyone could hear what I could hear. I shook my head and smiled.
“I woke up thinking about you this morning,” I said in hushed tones, looking up and down the list of coffees on the front of the machine.
“Me too. Woke up thinking about you, I mean.” Fickle laughed. “What are you doing to me, Immy? You’re all I can think about! I’ve got a shitload of work to get through today and all I can think about is you!”
I bit my lip. Fickle was saying everything I wanted to hear from her. I loved that she couldn’t concentrate for thinking about me, I loved that she was making me feel so special. I leaned my head against the glass of the coffee machine.
