Page 55 of Sad Girl Hours

Epilogue

Saffron

There is a girl in my bed. I can feel her heartbeat thumping against my back as she sleeps, arm slung over my waist.

It took some getting used to, being held like this, but now that I am, I don’t ever intend to reverse the process.

It’s been almost two months since I came back up north and I’ve not looked back. Up has always been my favourite direction so that’s where I’m trying to focus my attention instead. And right now, when I look up, I see stars.

A few days ago, Nell snuck into the house and stuck hundreds of those silly glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling and set up a projector in the middle of the room that swoops galaxies around the walls.

“ What is this? ” I’d breathed out when she first showed me, spinning round and round, utterly mesmerised.

“You said you’d always wanted the stars,” Nell had said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

“Now you’ve got them. And you get to feel like you’re in space and remember that you’re part of a whole universe far bigger than the version in your head.

An important part. Plus the lamp thing has another setting.

You can set a timer on it to turn the galaxy off and change it to a sunrise for you to wake up to.

That way, even in winter, you’re still waking up to the sun.

I’ve been reading about how things like that can help with SAD.

It’s all about tricking that mean ol’ brain of yours into thinking it’s still summer. ”

There was a moment when I’d just stood there, looking at the girl that I call mine with stars sliding over her face.

And then I’d tackled her into a hug. Kenneth – because while I didn’t kidnap Nell that night, I think technically I did dognap Kenneth – leapt in on the fray, licking our faces as we rolled around laughing until our stomachs hurt, and we simply lay on the floor instead, looking up at the stars.

My tutor gave me the details of a counsellor who works in the uni, and I’ve been seeing her once a week.

She’s called Briony, and she threatens to spray me with a water pistol every time I apologise for something or say something self-critical.

She claims it’s to help me recognise when a thought is my own or when it’s a ‘cognitive distortion’, i.e.

my depression and general self-critical nature being a bitch, but mostly I think she just enjoys it.

But either way, it is helping to have someone there whose job it is to be burdened (though Briony would squirt me with the gun if I called it that) with my thoughts.

As are the antidepressants the GP put me on when I went to see one.

She listened, for a good long while, and then she asked me what I wanted to be different.

I’d never been asked that before really. And I was surprised when I had my answer ready.

“I’d like to be able to cope with things a little better. I want to feel everything but I don’t want to feel like it’s sweeping me away. I don’t want to drown in it,” I said.

She nodded and asked me if I’d ever thought about trying medication.

I squirmed a little. “Yes. But I’m not sure. I don’t want to rely on something … artificial. I feel like I should be able to learn to cope without it.”

“Should is an interesting word,” she said. “If I were to use it, I’d say your brain should be able to produce the chemicals and responses it needs to not make you feel like you’re drowning. But, as it doesn’t, there’s nothing wrong or shameful with sourcing them from elsewhere.”

I took the prescription.

Then, two weeks later, I went to the pharmacy. And that night I held the tiny pill in my hand, Nell on a video call taking her medication as well, took a very deep breath and knocked it back with a slug of water.

I waited for something terrible to happen. Nothing did.

In fact, nothing at all happened for quite some time. I still felt the same.

And so I went back to the doctor. We increased t he dosage.

I waited again.

And, in the waiting, I realised I could hear the birds singing. I would wake up and hear them calling to one another, the amber, gold, burnt-umber light fading up the walls of my room from the lamp Nell bought me.

It was a lovely sound. Especially when I realised I could hear it because I wasn’t waking up with my head already screaming at me.

Don’t get me wrong – it didn’t all vanish. The bad days still happened – happen even. But the talking, the meds, trying not to feel the tugging of shame and not hiding the bad days from the people around me … it all helps them feel like they don’t last quite so long.

I told my parents all of this, in a letter. I sent my parents an actual handwritten letter, in the post. It felt easier to write down what I wanted to say on paper and not have to worry about getting an immediate response.

I told them how they’ve made me feel. And I told them that, for a while at least, I wanted to go no contact with them. At least until we figured out what kind of relationship with each other will make us all happy.

I think I’m starting to be prepared for that to be ‘none’.

I was quite proud of myself – the only thing I apologised for in it was stealing Kenneth.

I didn’t really think about it. I just knew that I wanted him with me. He always made me feel calmer, and taking him out for his walks twice a day is really helpful. He gets me up in the morning, even when I don’t really want to.

But I do understand that he wasn’t technically mine to take, and I will obviously understand if you want me to bring him back, or you want to come and fetch him.

I didn’t get a reply to my letter.

I did, however, get a bill, in my name, for Kenneth’s pet insurance.

Time and therapy (and Nell) have all helped me to realise something. Sometimes the people that are meant to love us decide not to. Or maybe they were never capable of it in the first place. But, either way, that was never my fault.

And I get to keep my boy. So, who’s winning now?

A few weeks later, I’m back in the woods with Nell, the sunlight scattered through the trees and dancing like fairies around us as the breeze makes the leaves bluster above.

We’re lying on a gingham picnic blanket – me with my textbooks, her with a notebook and pen, Kenneth thoroughly enjoying chowing down on a stick.

After a while, Nell throws her pen down and wriggles closer to me, peering over at my book.

“What’s that?” she asks, pointing at a Hertzsprung-Russell diagram.

I tell her what it’s called and she pulls a face.

“Respectfully that does not clear things up. Tell me more.”

“All right. So, once we figured out how to tell the temperature of different stars when we started photographing them, we suddenly had so much information, and we weren’t sure what to do with it.”

“We, meaning space gals.”

“Astrophysicists, yes.”

“Continue.”

I laugh. “So, we put it all on a chart, people theorised that it might demonstrate evolution – and they were right. It helped us learn about how stars change over the course of their lifetime, like a red giant turning into a white dwarf.”

Nell props her head on her hands and says, “I love it when you talk space to me.”

“Shut up,” I say through another laugh.

“I mean it,” she insists. “You’re never hotter than when you’re talking about something you really care about. Which is usually nerdy space stuff.”

“Usually but not always.” I meet her eyes with a swift grin; she meets my lips with a brush of her own.

“You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” I say again. “Or, actually, don’t shut up. Just tell me what you were working on.”

“All right.” She grabs her notebook. “Surprise, surprise, I was working on a poem.”

“Unprecedented.”

“I know, right?” Nell joins in on the bit. “Who’d have thought I had it in me?”

“Stanza Press must do,” I say, unable to stop myself from beaming with pride. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be publishing your collection.”

“Maybe,” she says, not managing to hide the excitement and pride on her own face.

The only correct response to a face like that is to kiss it, which I do for the next few minutes.

I pull away after that, though, ignoring Nell’s adorable frown, and pat the notebook. “Show me. Now, please.”

“So bossy,” Nell grumbles, picking up the book. “But fine. Here.” She begins to read.

“I’ ll love you in the spring

when everything’s unfurling and piercing the earth and the fields are strewn with new life.

I’ ll love you in the summer

when the air is sweet with warmth and the sun is the main character in everything I write and the day stretches on into the would-be night.

I’ ll love you in the autumn

when everything draws back in, embracing itself, and change wears a dress of burnt orange as she whispers in our ears that she’ ll take care of us.

I’ ll love you in the winter

when the skylines are unblemished with detail and the joy we light the skies with was made in factories but displayed in the cool open air.

And then I’ ll love you in the spring

when the earth says, ‘Let’s do this again.’

And we reply, ‘Yes. Let’s.’”

God, how she kills me with her words.

I focus right back in on those hazel eyes, securing us in the moment with my gaze. “I love you too,” I say. “So, so much. It sounds so inadequate after all of that, but—”

“It sounds perfect from where I’m sitting,” Nell says. “Say it again.”

I roll my eyes. “ So bossy .” But I oblige because I love the way the words sound slipping off my tongue and the effect they have on Nell’s face.

“ I love you .”

We’re only in March and it won’t be spring officially for a couple more weeks, but truthfully? I’ve felt it beginning since January.

“Freedom, sweet freedom.” Casper lolls backwards, resting his head on Jenna’s stomach. “Four whole months where I don’t have to think about soil or rocks, and I can instead focus entirely on my feelings of impending doom.”

“Sounds dreamy, my love.” Jenna reaches down to ruffle his hair.

“You know what else sounds dreamy?” Vivvie says.

“Getting feeling back in my right thumb. It’s been poked with a needle so many times that it may genuinely be too late for it.

My final project is going to have to be something incredible, so I’m probably going to be sewing non-stop when we get back in October. ”

We’re all up on the hill in the park to celebrate the summer solstice and have one last night together before we go our separate ways for the holidays.

Although I’m going back with Nell until August, when we’ll be coming back here for a while to sort out our new place, ready for the other three to join us in September.

I’m anticipating a lot of chaos, all five of us in one house for our final year of uni, but also a whole lot of fun. And not just because Nell’s bedroom will be right across the hall.

I passed my second-year exams, not exactly with flying colours, but it was enough. I get to keep going, keep poking around up there and doing what I love. And honestly? I can’t wait.

“Don’t worry, Vivvie. We’ll all help,” Nell says. “We can slide food under your door at regular intervals—”

“Or, worst comes to the worst,” Jenna says, “we’ll just pull the fire alarm at your showcase again and get you crazy publicity.”

Hilariously, because so many of the pieces were designed with sustainability in mind, the sprinkler incident at the showcase was spun by journalists into an intentional piece of activism/performance art.

The university – thankfully – was more than happy to go with that and not think about who did it.

I still berated them all for going to such extreme measures to get Nell to come out to me that night, though, and for nearly getting her attacked by a hypothetical bear, even if it was all in the name of love.

“I would never do the same thing twice. How predictable.” Vivvie looks horrified. “We’ll come up with something else equally dramatic. Jenna, you can help me brainstorm.”

“Gladly. And Nell can help. I may be the theatre kid but we all know that Nell also has a flair for the dramatic.”

“I think we all do,” Casper says. “That’s why we work.”

“That and we’re all queer as fuck,” Nell offers.

“Ugh, look at that,” says Vivvie, pointing at the sun setting over the town below.

“It’s giving lesbian pride,” Casper says, clearly noting the impressive range of pinks and oranges. “The sky’s an ally, Saff. Do you feel supported?”

“Honestly?” I say, laughing. “I do. I’m so glad that the universe approves of me and is happy I’m here.”

“It’s definitely happy you’re here. And so am I,” Nell says, and even if it wasn’t the day with the most sun in it, I still don’t think things could feel any brighter than they do in this moment.

I know that darker days are coming. Like, literally tomorrow. But I also know that I’ve never been in a better place to deal with them than I am right now.

I have Nell and our wonderful friends. I have plans to look forward to. I have my therapy and my meds.

None of it cures me. But all of it helps.

The sun is shining today but winter is still going to come and bring much harder times with it. But this time, I’m going to try to open my arms to the darkness like an old friend, knowing that it’s just a passing visitor.

Yes , I think, looking around at the people I love and who love me in return.

Nell smiles at me and it’s almost too much – it still knocks me back with the force of it, how acutely she sees me, how acutely she loves me . “You’re quiet. You OK?”

I lean forward to brush a kiss against her cheek. “I am.”

Huh.

The thought fills me up:

I really think I mean it.