Page 53 of Sad Girl Hours

Chapter Fifty-three

Nell

“Hi,” Saffron says, leaning forward off the car, looking a little nervous but also perfect . As usual. And, bizarrely, she’s holding the lead of an amber-coloured curly mess of a dog that can only be Kenneth.

“Hi. What are you doing here? ” I repeat.

“It’s a long story,” she says. “Why don’t you get in, and I’ll tell you it?”

“In the car?”

“Yes.”

Arguably I should have some questions. Again, what are you doing here , how come Casper is letting you drive his car , is it even legal for you to do so , where are we going , why is Kenneth here , etc., etc.

But, instead, I get in the damn car.

Kenneth is very excited to see me, sitting up alertly as we pull out of the car park and drive through town, all the way to the motorway on the other side, leading up towards the Lake District.

Saffron is quiet. I keep turning to watch her, her face periodically being lit up as we pass under the street lamps.

When we get to the Welcome to the Lake District sign, I can bear it no longer.

“Not to be indelicate, but are you kidnapping me? Am I being kidnapped right now?”

She laughs and it sounds like summer rain. “Not really. You’ll be back home in your own bed by the end of the night. Promise.”

“All right. Then, next question, one you may recall me asking before – why are you here?”

“The boring answer is that term starts tomorrow. And I have a meeting with my tutor first thing.”

“Sure. And the non-boring answer?”

“I realised some things recently. Very recently. Yesterday actually. When Casper, Viv and Jenna came down to see me in Exeter.”

“They what…” This is news to me. No wonder they’ve all been acting like absolute weird tits all day.

“They came down to see me. They surprised me. To tell the truth, I wasn’t planning on coming back up. I thought my time here was done. I thought they were going to kick me out of uni – which they still might,” she adds. “But I’m going to try my best not to let them.”

She’s staring at the road, which I know is best practice and everything for road safety, but I still wish she was looking at me instead so I could try to work out where all this is going.

“I posted a video to my page about an hour ago,” she continues. “If you watch it, things might start to make a bit more sense.”

I’m still deeply confused but I do as she suggests, pulling out my phone and opening up her page, clicking on her latest video.

It’s her, in her room here. No filters, no editing, just her.

“ Hi ,” video Saffron says. “ I wanted to come on here today and talk to you guys about something a little different. To cut straight to the point – I have something called seasonal affective disorder, aptly known as SAD. For those of you that have heard of it, you might be thinking that that makes a lot of sense, and that SAD is just that – feeling a bit blue in winter. But I wanted to clear some things up about that. My experience with seasonal affective disorder is much more than just feeling sad when it’s dark.

It can be different depending on the person – but for me it makes me feel really low and hopeless and think the worst about things – and people ,” she adds.

“ I don’t think I’m worth anything at all when I’m feeling like this.

And then there’s the other more physical effects as well.

Like losing my appetite, feeling tired all the time, but not being able to sleep at night.

It’s basically like my regular depression, which I sometimes experience regardless of the time of year, but amplified, mostly due to the lack of sunlight in autumn and winter.

Now, you might be thinking, why is she telling me this?

Which, you know, is valid. ” Video Saffron laughs.

“ But I felt like it was time. I know you’ve all probably grown up, like me, hearing things about not believing everything you see on social media, and I always used to roll my eyes at it, but I guess I was unintentionally perpetuating these lies.

“ I wanted to come on here to let you all know two things. One, that mental illness is not pretty. It’s just not.

It’s crying so hard you can’t breathe, not getting out of bed, let alone putting on outside clothes and doing your make-up.

It’s lying to the people you love, and feeling hunger gnawing at you but not having the energy to do anything about it.

It’s fucking ugly. But we don’t like to talk about that.

And we definitely don’t like to look at it.

Which is why I’ve kind of been hiding all of this away, posting as usual, maintaining this kind of image of someone happy and shiny and put together, because I thought that’s what people wanted.

“ And that’s why I’m probably not going to be posting as often as I used to.

I’ve decided to commit to only posting about things when I really want to, when I have something I’m really passionate about sharing.

And not just posting because I want everyone to think I’m OK.

I only want to do this when it brings me joy.

I hope you can understand. I’m sure you will.

“ I wanted to make this video – I needed to make this video – because I want to be honest with people, including all of you. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s here.

I’m Saffron. I have seasonal affective disorder.

This is step one of me talking about it.

Step two is sorting things out with people I’ve not been honest with in the past. Step three will be me getting help.

I might talk about that, just in case it inspires any of you to do the same. I might not. We’ll see.

“ But – I’ve definitely rambled enough for now and it’s time for me to get on to step two, away from the camera. I’ll see you all soon – maybe – for more space facts, sustainable fashion and honesty. Definitely more honesty. Goodbye for now. ”

The video ends.

I click my screen off and take a moment to gather my thoughts.

“I’m proud of you,” I say quietly. “That was quite something you just did.”

“In a way, yes,” she says, indicating to turn off the motorway.

“But also, now I’ve done it, it doesn’t feel that big at all.

It feels like I was hiding this big secret away that I really didn’t need to.

I’ve been thinking I’ve got this big, shameful stain on my person but, now that I’ve started talking about it, I feel like it’s fading. ”

“I’m so glad, Saffron.”

I support all of this, obviously, but I’m just also really fucking confused.

I haven’t heard from her since she left my house with scarcely a goodbye.

And now I’m in the car with her – and Kenneth – heading towards an unknown destination when I’d really quite like there not to be any more unknowns for a while.

“Thank you. But I didn’t just want to see you to show you that.”

“No?”

“No. Hang on, we’re nearly here.”

I’m not sure where ‘here’ is but we’ve turned off the motorway – off any main road really – and are now winding further and further up a hill.

There are a few more minutes of quiet before we get to the top and pull into a layby. Saffron comes round to open my door for me, and I follow her as we go through a tiny gate, Saffron leading the way with a giant torch up a little path towards a stone pillar on the brow of the hill.

When we get to the top, I feel as though my breath has been snatched away from me. The view is unreal. I’ve never been out in the Lake District after dark. I’ve always heard about the stars, but seeing them like this…

The sky is bare, unreserved, sparkling stars, millions of them , lighting up the sky like they’re tiny holes that have been made in all the black, some incomprehensibly bright light behind it. I’ve never felt so small in all my life – and I’ve never been so glad to.

“It’s… Well, beautiful doesn’t feel a big enough word really, but it is. Beautiful,” I say.

I’m expecting Saffron to be transfixed, but when I speak her attention is fully on me. “I know exactly what you mean.”

We stand, staring at each other, until Saffron says my name.

“Nell.”

“Saffron…”

“I’m sorry.”

I let out a breath. “You don’t have to be—”

“I know. But I am. I hurt you, and I will always be sorry for that. But I don’t want to hurt you any more.”

I don’t know what’s happening but I feel her words pour golden hope into every crack. “You don’t?”

“No.” She takes a step closer to me. “This is why I wanted you to know that I’m going to get help for my mental health.

I don’t want to feel like this any more.

I don’t want to listen when I hear that dickhead in my head telling me that you deserve better than me.

I probably always will believe that, a little bit, but I think that’s OK.

Healthy even. To think that your partner is out of your league, and that you’re the luckiest person in the world to be with them. ”

Partner. I repeat the word aloud with a question mark. Saffron’s cheeks flush.

“I might be doing this in the wrong order. I should probably have led with telling you that I love you and that I want to be with you. On bad days, on good, in winter and summer and everything in between.”

All I want to do is to believe this and to fall into her arms. But I know I need to focus on keeping talking.

“That’s all…” No. Focus. “Do you not want to take things slow?” I ask.

“I’m so glad you’ve had these realisations and you’re feeling positive, but do you not want to just play things by ear a bit? ”

“No,” she says. “Maybe that’d be wise. But I don’t want to take things slow with you.

If you do, if you want to wait for me to get help and to sort myself out a bit more, then that’s completely fine.

I’ll understand. Or even if I’m too late and you don’t want to be with me at all.

But if you do want me, I’m yours. Completely. ”

“You’re mine, huh?”