Solenne’s sorrows
January’s story
Trick or treat … Both
She woke up, slowly opening her eyes. The fog and fuzz faded. Up she got, rubbing the crusts out of her eyes. She grabbed a shower and freshened up.
Then she remembered that she’d forgotten to grab her brother’s phone and delete it. She grabbed some knickers and a bra, threw on some clothes and tiptoed to his room. He was, for once, up with the lark. Stomping back to her room, she plugged in her mobile phone and listened to the startling buzzes and beeps of the Twitter twinkles and Facebook feeds. Facebook was for losers nowadays, the new place to be was Instagram or Snapchat, and for the really crazy guys she’d heard rumours of Tinder. She’d never dared download that stuff, she knew she was worth more than quick love, but she understood those who did. Fear was in every pore of her, and there had been some disclosures made by her scumbag brother.
Rolling in, in waves were the photos from last night. She’d have to run the gauntlet of the bullying at school. Could she shrug it off, and say that the mistakes of the past made her the star of today? That sounded like a dogged plan. She glanced at the various feeds. She certainly was being shared around. The cat was out of the bag now. Her phone rang. It was Suzie. She was terse and not exactly avuncular, Suzie was dismayed and flipped her lid. Suzie was going to call it all off this time.
She plodded downstairs to the kitchen and pushed her breakfast round the crockery. She’d have to set the record straight if she wanted her life to be intertwined with Suzie’s.
At the breakfast table her dad’s cufflinks winked in the weak sunlight, and that was somehow heartening. That something could give a glimmer of hope.
Her brother was looking smug, but Solenne was in bereavement. She put on an outward show of courage and her best balmy outlook face. Dad looked out the window at the birds, Solenne gave her smug brother the middle finger and the “look of death” and she headed out the door.
They were waiting for her at the forecourt of the shops next to the school. All her hopes of riding the storm were snuffed out. They paid scant regard to her pleas for mercy, bustling around her. She summoned up the courage to try to see it through, scuttling her and there like a crab. But it was downright impossible. “Fakes and forgeries” they shouted and called her foreboding names.
It was a gruff greeting , as they snatched at her, pushing her over. Kicks came in, grazing her head, before a car arrived, revving up the motor. Someone got out and rescued her, but she didn’t think she deserved it. A stalwart effort by…MIKE.
Later, after a long time crying in the toilets, when she’d calmed down from the various confrontations with “school fools” and had a discussion with the headteacher’s assistant things seemed better. It had taken nearly three days to get there though.
Going to school she’d faced stares and sniggers on the bus, and once at school some students thought it was their right to control and correct, comment and cajole. What was worse was that phone call from Suzie. It had nearly broken her when Suzie had told her that she didn’t want to see her for a while, maybe never. “How could she kiss that Mike, and what was she doing vomiting everywhere? Dressed up like that? What was she thinking?” It was clear then, that Suzie had some feelings for her. Just maybe that she’d broken Suzie’s heart a little bit.
Her attempts to set the record straight with Suzie were no better than those she made at school
She cried again. They had tagged her locker and after, a group had just crowded round. Chanting her and Mike’s names, poking, taking selfies. She’d stood there and held her head up high and given her best “so what” pose, but her chin had started to fall. Things started to get ugly, and a tussle started to break out. She was being backed into the corner.
Then, luckily for her teachers came in, calmed it all down, got the photos off the threads, eventually, even deleted them from her brother’s phone. Too little too late. The horse had bolted, locking the doors after was lame. Of course, the photos were shared and shared, until the next idiot’s moment of shame came. That takes time, unless of course you engineer it and help it along.
For a while she’d planned to set something up, so that she too could laugh at another’s woes. But she had decided that she needed Suzie back. How could she do that? That was the plan. She’d hovered on the edge of making a decision about which way to go, but sometimes it was just the person you fell in love with, not the gender. Anyway, she planned to ask Suzie. Tell Suzie. Beg Suzie.
What next? Damage limitation. Creating a wall of fog.
She tousled her hair, and grabbed her phone, and searched for an internet scrambler. That would stop any more disclosures.
She duly found one and popped it into the online caddy. It was small enough to fit into a bag, and easy to hide. She’d heard rumours that some teachers had these gadgets in their classrooms, despite their illegality
It was startling how easy it was to find these illegal things. The dark web was perhaps as dangerous as the jungle.
She’d get it delivered to a shop and pick it up there. It would take a few days. That would buy her time to try to see Suzie.
She sent a texto to Suzie and hoped to see her. She wanted to stand in front of Suzie or sit with her and tell her that she was in love. It sounded so melodramatic. She was afraid Suzie would laugh at her.
She’d picked up the scrambler from that dive of a corner shop. Plugged it in behind the radiators, but it hadn’t taken long before she got caught. Solenne was duly chastised. The scrambler was there, on the coffee table, and it was time for a discussion with her parents, who were dismayed. Again.
Back at home , after a harrowing few days, she was working on a pitch to Suzie.
Suzie loved long walks. They could go rambling. It would give them a chance to be together, to chat away and not fret. Solenne mused about how it would go, picturing it all in her head. Her upbringing had been the solid normal one, where those thoughts of same-sex relationships were not exactly encouraged but tolerated nonetheless.
Her brother was being told off this time. Her dad had been told about the photos. She’d explained that she’d been ill at the cinema. It’d been good to try to rebuild the trust with her parents.
Ticking in the back of her mind, though was the mental image of the vicar’s wife drinking the vodka on Sunday. Would she spray it all over the floor, or spit it out like some crazy whale coming up for air?
The catch would be when they came. That would be close to Christmas. She’d have to pour the drinks herself, pouring in lashings of orange juice for the vicar’s wife so the chili in the vodka wouldn’t kill her. But Christmas was nearly here.
It had all begun when the vicar and his wife, Wendy had come for an amiable visit, tucking into the crackers on the best crockery, flipping the cards they’d been dealt for the dusty middle class game of bridge. She’d tried to pretent to be ill, but dad had his best cufflinks on and the twinkle was back.The only heartening thing was that Wendy had decided to drink a new cocktail. Solenne had put on her best face. Outwardly, she’d transformed herself into a model schoolgirl,pleats and curls. Inwardly she knew it was all forgery, and fakes, the words hurled at her buy her shool mates echoed in her mind.Solenne didn’t believe in any of the words purported to be true in the Holy Bible.Well, maybe not all of it.
The evening was suprisingly sultry for the season, and the stress meant that she was sweating from every pore. Waiting for Wendy to drink the Vodka and orange of DEATH.
They all knibbled at knick-knacks and nuts,chatting away about this or that titbit of news.Wendy looked at her watch and said”Oh, Roger, its time to go! One for the road?” Solenne’s dad stood up, before she could cut in to pour the large vodka and small orange. A lavish dose. Solenne’s heart nearly stopped. But Wendy liked it, thanking everyone for a lovely time.
later, she chatted with her dad. Told him everything. How it had all gone wrong. Her dad hugged her, and said “Life is too short to waste, follow your heart”
It was watershed.
She phoned Suzie. They sobbed and spoke for ages.
The next weekend, Suzie grudgingly agreed to go on a ramble , the spells Solenne had cast in her dreams must have worked.. The moors were bleak, but romantic. Solenne gave a muffled apology, shame sinking down into her boots. She was forlorn, and fateful. But Suzie was indulging, and , like a thunderbolt from the blue, turned round and drew Solenne into her arms. Then….
Tune into next months episode