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1
“Michelle? Erin’s on the phone.”Michelle sighed in reaction to Deirdre’s voice, and dragged herself downstairs. She grabbed the phone from her ma’s hand.
“Erin, hi,” she said, already planning excuses as to why she couldn’t talk for long.
“Clare’s gay.”It was like someone had started to twist mindlessly at Michelle’s gut. Clare? Gay? She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Like fuck, she is!”“I’m being serious. She’s the wee lesbian.”“You mean… that article.”
It suddenly made sense. Clare had never shown any interest in boys. Considering Clare’s permanently high levels of anxiety, it would have been easy to spot any nerves surrounding boys. Sure, they went to an all girls’ school, but it wasn’t like they didn’t know boys. There was James for a start, though Michelle couldn’t see how any girl could fancy him. But Clare wasn’t even bothered by the hot priest.
“I think she hates me,” Erin said, voice breaking slightly.
“That’s a jump,” Michelle pointed out, and then paused, “What did you do?”
“I might’ve… maybe… been maybe not the most accepting person ever.”Of course. It wasn’t unlike Erin to be all talk when it came to things like this. Michelle thought for a second. How did she feel about this?
She wasn’t disgusted. That wasn’t right. The word uncomfortable seemed to fit better and, to her surprise, guilty.
What am I guilty about? She thought. Maybe…
No. Michelle was normal, she knew that. She dismissed the gut wrenching - she obviously was just confused that her best friend wasn’t who she expected. That would be it.
2
Clare was drunk. Very drunk. She’d never had alcohol before, and so the several glasses of wine she had downed hit her like a slap in the face. Michelle offered to take Clare the rest of the way home alone; Mrs Devlin already hated her, so if they were caught it wouldn’t do her any harm.
Beside her Clare groaned. “Sorry, Michelle.”
“You gotta be careful, Clare.”
“I know,” she wobbled on her feet, and would have fallen were it not for the arm around her waist. “I just wanted to show you I’m not boring.”
There was a pause, and Michelle felt a bubble of guilt float to her throat.
“I know you’re not boring, Clare.”Clare stopped walking and Michelle turned to face her, ignoring how cold the night air felt now she wasn’t holding Clare upright. Wasn’t touching her.
“You called me a craic killer.”
“I know.”
Not for the first time in her life, Michelle found herself struggling to apologise. But then she saw the blue eyes glaze over, and realised Clare was starting to cry.
“I’m sorry. You’re… you’re good craic, Clare.”
A smile spread across the smaller girl’s face, then faded again almost instantly. She started to go pale, and swayed gently.
“Are you gonna boke?”
Clare nodded, and Michelle grabbed her hand, dragging her through the gates into the park.
Clare was sick in the bush, Michelle rubbing circles on her back. “Yep. Let it all out,” she grimaced.
When Clare was done, she flopped onto the floor, resting against a wall. Michelle dug some makeup wipes and mints out of her pocket, cleaned Clare up, then sat down next to her.
“So, this night could have gone better,” she said.
Clare nodded, and then leaned her head on Michelle’s shoulder, who shivered, despite the warmth that had started once more to spread through her body. She glanced down, and saw Clare’s hand laying on the grass next to her leg. It was so close. She could so easily take it.
Panic began to rise in her, the gentle warmth transforming into a burning heat. What was happening to her? This was just Clare. Dull Clare. Nervous Clare. Irritating Clare.
Female Clare.
Suddenly, Michelle had to leave.
“Come on,” she said, desperately attempting to be casual, “We should head.”
3
They were all around Erin’s house. The adults had gone out, so Michelle had made the executive decision to raid their cupboards and sneak a few, wee drinks. Erin had then made the decision that they should play truth or drink, something both James and Clare protested.
So it happened that Erin, Orla, James (who had his arm twisted) and Michelle sat in a circle on the floor, while Clare huffed disapprovingly on the sofa behind them.
Orla looked at Michelle.“I don’t understand.”
Michelle groaned.“I’ve already explained five times, Orla.”“Basically,” Erin interjected, “Someone asks you a question. You either answer or you drink."“Why wouldn’t I want to answer?” Orla asked.“Oh forget it, you’ll pick it up,” Erin turned to face James. “Right. So. James. Have you ever… fancied a teacher.”
James blushed.
“Yes.”“Who?”There was a pause.
“Miss De Brun.”Michelle scoffed. “But she’s a woman!”
“And, as it transpires, a massive dick,” Erin added.James rolled his eyes. “Right, my go,” he said, turning to Michelle. “Have you ever… fallen for someone you shouldn’t.”“Oh, come off it James, this is Michelle we’re talking about. You remember the incident with the provo she was determined to marry,” Erin whined.
But Michelle had turned white, and was trying resignedly not to look at Clare. She could feel heartbeat in her ears and was all too aware of everyone looking at her. And then she heard the last voice she wanted to hear in that moment.
“Are you alright Michelle?” Clare’s voice echoed in the air around her. “You look sorta… shaky.”
Michelle looked at Clare, then at the others, and then back to Clare.
“I… I feel a bit bokey,” she just about managed to choke out, before getting up and heading for the door, leaving the room dumb with silence.
She knelt on the grass outside, and dry heaved. Her whole body felt hollow and she leant back on the wall.
What’s wrong with me?
Desperately, Michelle tried to steady her breathing, but to no avail. The image of Clare kept popping back into her head.
The blue of her eyes.
How animated her face was when she rambled.
The shine of her smile.
The way her hair cascaded down past her shoulders.
Her silly Alice bands and ski pants and floral jacket. The two rainbow pins she always wore.
Fuck.
This wasn’t something she could ignore forever, but the thought of acknowledging it properly made Michelle feel sick again and she buried her head in her hands, straining to keep the tears in.
“Michelle?”
“Fuck off, ball-ache.”But James didn’t fuck off. Instead, he calmly sat down beside her, and stayed in silence for a few minutes. The quiet and the feeling of someone next to her calmed Michelle down slightly.
“What’s going on?”“James, you seriously need to piss off.”
“No.”
“I’m not gonna talk, so…”He turned to face her. “I think you should talk, Michelle. Get it off your chest, you know?”
“I haven’t got anything on my chest, you dick.”
For a second, it seemed like James was gonna give up. The night air froze as silence fell again, and then James broke it.
“Are you gay?”
This time, Michelle couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in her eyes. She looked at him, and felt her heart break as she couldn’t find what to say.
And then, mousey and small amidst the quiet, she half-whispered, half-sobbed the only the thing she could.
“I don’t know.”The floodgate broke, and Michelle, for the first time in front of her cousin, was shaking with tears. He didn’t speak, only wrapped his arms around her as she buried her face in his chest. When she was ready, he let her talk.
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” she gulped, pushing herself away so she was looking at him again. “I thought I liked boys. No. No, I do like boys. But… I don’t know. I think maybe I like girls as well. I don’t know how, or why.” She drew in a deep shaky breath.
“James, I think I’m broken.”
To her surprise, he simply smiled.
“You’re bisexual."A beat.
“I’m… what?”
“You’re bisexual. It means you like boys and girls. I read it somewhere.”
Bisexual.
Michelle felt a wave of relief. There were other people like her. “I’m bisexual.”James nodded.
“How did you know?”
“I don’t know. You’ve just been acting… weird recently. Talking about sex way less. And then…”
“What?”
James paused and bit his lip. “I kept seeing you looking at Clare.”
Oh.
“If you tell anyone, I swear to God…”
James’ smile promised her that he wouldn’t.
4
There was a party at someone or others house. They weren’t technically invited, but Erin dragged them along, swearing that this would be the night she would finally get with some boy she liked.
Michelle had spent the whole of Saturday stressing over her outfit. She’d considered nicking her ma’s credit card again, but worried she would look too much like she cared. Besides, it probably wouldn’t have been a great idea considering what happened at the prom. So, instead, she opted for raiding her wardrobe and trying every outfit possible and attempting no less than ten different angles of winged eyeliner, before eventually wiping them off and going for a simpler look. In the end, she had decided on a black mini skirt with high socks and a low-cut tank top.
Setting off down the road, she took several conspicuous swigs of vodka, scowling at the taste. By the time she turned up at the party, she could feel the buzz of alcohol in her system, and she and James gravitated over to where the rest of the group were standing in the corner.
She was mid-swig when she caught sight of Clare, and felt herself dribble the liquid down her chin.
She was wearing her pink denim jacket and a floral green mini skirt, and the sight of her legs made Michelle’s body burn. She swallowed and wiped her chin, trying to think of something else. When she realised she couldn’t, she brought the bottle to her lips again, hoping it would make her forget.
As the night drifted on however, she felt it have the opposite effect. By ten o’clock she was sat on the steps outside, staring off into space and swaying slightly. She was giddy with her newfound feelings, and numbed with the pain of them. Her vodka bottle lay empty beside her, accounting for the bubbling feeling in her stomach and veins, and the warmth that filled her from head to toe.
“Hey.”
Clare’s voice came from behind her, and suddenly she wasn’t alone on the steps.
“I lost the others.”“Guess you’ll have to make do with me then, eh Clare?”
Clare shuffled her feet. “You know that’s not what I meant.”“Aye.”
For a moment, the pair went quiet. Michelle longed for Clare to rest her head on her shoulder, but no such luck. Clare seemed somewhat distracted, and Michelle couldn’t place her finger on why. And then she saw Charlene Kavanagh laughing with some friends across the grass, and felt bitter tears threatening to make an appearance. She swallowed them down, looking away.
Clare’s hand on her arm made her turn back round, until she found herself absorbed in the bright, crystal blue of her irises.
“Are you alright, Michelle?” Clare asked.
“I’m grand.”“Forgive me if I’m wildly off-base here, but you’ve just seemed… I don’t know, really distant recently, and I was worrying - well, we all were really - that maybe you weren’t one hundred percent okay, and obviously it would be grand if you were, you know, grand, but if you’re not I would love you to tell me because it seems to me—”
She didn’t know how long Clare would have continued her ramble, and it seemed that she wouldn’t find out. Without realising what she was doing, Michelle had grabbed Clare’s face and pulled her into a kiss.
She physically felt Clare’s initial shock, and panicked. But a second later, it seemed Clare realised what was happening and Michelle found Clare’s hands burning into her hips. She hummed, and dragged her fingers through Clare’s hair.
Michelle had kissed countless boys in her time - though perhaps less than she’d like to admit - but this was different. Softer and warmer, and for the first time she felt those butterflies that chic-flics had promised her.
She pulled away, and the girls just looked at each other for a second.
“Wow,” Clare said. “Can you… um. Can we maybe do that again?”
Michelle laughed, and then felt herself crying.
“Oh my god,” Clare’s face turned. “I’m so sorry. What did I do wrong? Was that my fault? This is all… I don’t really. I’m sorry, I can leave if…”“No!” Michelle threw her arms around Clare’s shoulders, and sobbed into her neck. She felt Clare’s arms wrap themselves round her back, and trace delicate circles with her fingers.
“Thank you,” Michelle mumbled, pushing herself back and looking into Clare’s eyes. “I- I think that maybe you helped me accept this,” she made a vague gesture “fucking huge part of myself.”
“So you’re… well, actually, what are you?”“I’m bisexual. Apparently.”
“Right. How do you know?” Clare asked.“James. I think he sorta worked it out, fucking nosy dick.”
“So, how long have you known?”
“That’s tricky actually. I started feeling weird around the time you came out. Before that I’d always assumed I was normal.”“You mean straight,” Clare corrected, “They’re not synonyms. I’m… we’re normal too.”
“Right. But I guess when I found out you’re a lesbian I got kinda jealous. But not, like, jealous that you were getting attention, or that you were out and I wasn’t. It was like…” Michelle trailed off, glancing at her hands.
“It was like what?” Clare nudged.
“Like I was scared some other girl would get you before… Before I could.”
This time, Clare was the one who pulled Michelle in for a kiss, one hand on her cheek and the other interlinking itself with Michelle’s fingers. She hummed as Michelle deepened the kiss. Both of them seemed to have forgotten they were not alone, and broke apart as they heard giggles from across the lawn.
Michelle laughed sheepishly, glancing down, but Clare put a finger under her chin and guided her face back up so they were looking at one another.
“So, um, what does this mean?” Clare asked.
“I dunno.” There was a pause in which Michelle absentmindedly ran her hand up and down Clare’s thigh. “I guess, um… Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”
A beam spread across Clare’s face, starting at her eyes and working down the crinkle of her nose, across the apples of her cheeks to her mouth, and she quietly nodded, squeezing Michelle’s hand.
The months behind Michelle spread out like ink on paper.
A new ink trail had started, the colours so much brighter, and Michelle knew that these pages would be beautiful.