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take my hand
The first thing Melanie felt when she came round was Georgie’s hands wrapped around her hand and wrist. It was familiar, the glossy edges of Georgie’s painted nails and the smooth skin on the backs of her hands. She was always putting on hand cream, rose and mango and tangerine, and forcing Melanie to, when she was nearby. She thought she’d probably buy Georgie a posh one, Chanel or Oliver Bonas or the one she’d been eyeing up in John Lewis for weeks, to make up for this.
Melanie squeezed her hand and Georgie woke up with a gasp.
i’ll lead you to salvation
Georgie led Melanie into the flat, keeping her pressed to her side. Melanie let herself be led, the smell of a scented candle and fresh washing hitting her as Georgie opened the door. She toed off her shoes as Georgie led her to the sofa, fussing over her the whole way. She sunk into the cushions there, pulling the blanket over her. Georgie had knitted it while watching TV, a patchwork of whichever colours or textures she felt like. Melanie had helped her finish it, stitch the pieces together and line it with a soft fleece. It was cosy and familiar, and the Admiral was much more likely to come near her if he could sit on the blanket. Georgie returned from the kitchen and pushed a mug of tea into her hand, the special sort she saved for season finales and catastrophes.
take my love
Melanie always lay near to Georgie when they slept. She was always too cold, and Georgie was well aware of that fact, cocooning her in the duvet and swearing at Melanie’s cold feet on the backs of her knees. But the first night back, Georgie curled her whole body around her, holding her far tighter than normal. Melanie was sure her hair would be up her nose and in her mouth. She voiced her concerns and Georgie laughed, although it could have been a sob.
“Worse things Mel. Worse things could be happening to us.”
Melanie guessed that technically was true, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d washed her hair and she didn’t imagine it was pleasant. She wondered dimly if she would carry on dying her hair now she couldn’t see it, and then burrowed into Georgie’s chest and tried not to wonder about anything too much.
for love is everlasting
Melanie had always been ready to fight anyone who looked at her wrong, anger crackling at her fingertips and crawling up her throat at a roll of the eyes or a slurred curse thrown at her as she walked past. Her palms had small crescent scars from digging her fingernails into the skin when she knew it was unnecessary and needed to not explode on the man next to her on the bus, no matter how much she wanted to. It protected her; she knew it did. No one could see her weaknesses if there was blood in their eyes.
She’d never been properly angry at Georgie; she never would be. Georgie was different. Sure, they argued over whose turn it was to clear out the litter tray or make the run down to the corner shop on a cold night, but they never fought properly. Melanie never felt the fire inside her when Georgie refused to watch Dracula with her or didn’t let her punch the man trying to touch Georgie’s hair in the supermarket queue. She saw something in Georgie that no one else had, and Georgie saw her, saw her weaknesses and her flaws and her cracks, and loved her. She loved all of her, she saw all that she was and let Melanie into her heart still. Georgie was all open arms and open doors and open hearts, and Melanie knew she always would be. A cup of tea after a hard day, a forehead kiss after a crying fit, a tight hug after a nightmare. Before she’d met Georgie, she wasn’t quite sure if she even understood the point of love. It was hard to remember Before Georgie, before she felt she could do anything and still have Georgie after it all. She was the strongest person she’d ever met, and Melanie knew how lucky she was to be here, even after everything she’d done. She was still allowed this.
and remember
“Get out of my flat.”
Georgie sounded angry, angrier than Melanie had heard her for a long time. The Admiral shifted on her lap and eventually wandered off, leaving Melanie to gather the blanket around herself and shuffle into the hallway.
“Oh – what’s go… what’s going on? You - you woke the Admiral.”
Georgie slipped her hand around her shoulders, pulling her to her side as she did so often now.
“Hey, hey, easy. It’s - it’s all right, he was just leaving.”
Melanie assumed a salesman, maybe an old friend of Georgie’s who she didn’t want to see.
“Melanie, I…”
Oh. Jon. The memories flooded over Melanie suddenly, a wave tiding her over and making her wobble ever so slightly on her feet. She felt the pressure build behind her eyes and her throat close, but she tried to choke it back. She was here and she was safe and Georgie would protect her.
“Jon?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” Jon sounded tired somehow, Melanie could practically hear the bags under his eyes. She couldn’t do it though. It wasn’t her problem, Jon and the Institute and whatever was happening there now were not for her anymore. She couldn’t think about it, she’d done so much to never have to think about any of that ever again. She squeezed Georgie’s hand almost subconsciously.
“It’s all right, Melanie. Jon, leave.”
the truth that once was spoken
The first time Melanie had said I love you to someone other than her father was when she was 13. Her girlfriend at the time – Rosaline, but Melanie could call her Rosie – had looked up at Melanie from her lap. She had looked vaguely concerned but said it back. Even if they were both lying (and Melanie was fairly sure they were), it felt nice to have something going for her, something that meant maybe she was growing up and would finally be a proper woman.
The first time Melanie had said I love you to someone other than her father and meant it was when she was sitting on Georgie’s bed, watching her flick through her outfits and narrate each one as if they were being cat-walked in front of her. She’d turn occasionally and model one to Melanie, who would consider for a few seconds and point to the corresponding pile for keep or charity shop.
“And now, this gorgeous little number from college.” Georgie spun, holding the dress in front of her. It was short and flimsy and cheap, with a pair of fishnets draped across it. It was about as far from Georgie’s cardigans-mom jeans-blouses as you could get “Now, you may think ‘wow, Georgie went out partying in that, how she’s changed’, but no. I wore this once, in my college’s production of Cabaret, where I starred as Lulu the cabaret girl with star turn as gorilla.”
Georgie batted her eyelashes in a stupidly over-the-top caricature of seduction. Melanie laughed and stood up to get a better look at the dress.
“A definite keep, I would say. You never told me you did theatre.”
“Just wait until I drag you to Les Mis with me, it’ll be the night of your life.”
“I’m sure it would be.” Melanie dropped into Georgie’s lap, planting a kiss just beneath her ear. “Every time I think I know at least most things about you, you pull out something like being a gorilla on stage.”
Georgie grinned widely and wound a small piece of Melanie’s hair around her finger. “Girl of your dreams?”
“Of course.” Melanie said, and she meant it, and she realised maybe her and Georgie had something good.
“I love you.”
to love another person
Melanie missed the light on the Admiral’s fur and she missed the flowers on her carefully kept houseplants and she missed Georgie most of all. She wasn’t the best at seeing things in her head – her and Jon had a whole fight once while he insisted that everyone could picture an apple – and she worried that one day she would wake up and not be able to remember what Georgie’s face looked like. She didn’t tell Georgie, but she often wanted to.
Georgie would always be there though, she was sure. If she forgot just how her nose turned up at the end or exactly how her hair curled off her forehead, she could reassure herself by reaching out for Georgie’s face. Georgie made jokes about the callouses on the tips of her fingers and threatening to go and get her hand cream, but she always leaned into her touch.
Maybe Melanie would never see her face again, but maybe that didn’t quite matter. Maybe the jokes were more important, maybe the reassurance or the knowledge that they’d go to the end of the earth for each other. Maybe Georgie’s smooth hands and Melanie’s rough heart would coexist, maybe Georgie would never put her black dress on again and Melanie would never soften her hands. Maybe Georgie would keep the demons at bay and maybe Melanie would let her. Maybe that would be enough.
is to see the face of God