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Rosalind stared at her bedroom ceiling. She couldn't sleep, her exam results were supposed to come tomorrow and she felt as though she had forgotten everything she'd ever learned about midwifery. She could hardly remember what she had said to the board because she had been so nervous. That being said, she certainly could remember every mistake, every stutter, or misspeaking she'd managed to make in the interview. She was scared, she needed to know that she had passed, that she was good, that she would be able to stay at nonnatus.
She wished that she could be as calm and confident as Joyce was. She guessed that maybe if she had earned as many awards as Joyce had she would have that much confidence. Rosalind turned onto her side to look at Joyce's awards proudly displayed on the mantle, they shone brightly in the moonlight coming from the window. Rosalind wished that just one of them could have been hers, that she had something to make her father proud, that would make him finally say he was proud of her. She reached her hand out the shimmer from the moonlight reflecting on the awards grazing her hand. She imagined the shimmering light becoming solid, forming an award of her own. Her father had always been kind to her, but he was first and foremost a schoolmaster and he viewed her success purely on her performance, focusing more on her failures than her successes. If she achieved at a sport, there would always be a boy at the boarding school that outperformed her and would steal her father's praise. Her high test scores were always just short of what her father expected. Her father was kind but his bar of expectation was constantly changing, never lowering to match reality.
She turned back to face Joyce sleeping peacefully in her bed, free from stress; full of apparent confidence. Rosalind's mind filled with envy.
“Why was she clever? Why was she able to quickly understand things that took her so long to figure out? It wasn't right; it wasn't fair!”, she angrily thought. Her anger quickly changed to shame, how could she be so selfish? How could she think even for a second that Joyce, whom she had personally seen work so hard over the last several months to learn all that she could for the exam, didn't deserve success?! Rosalind started to cry, first faintly, slowly growing stronger and louder. Thoughts of shame and jealousy from all periods of her life began flooding her system. She remembered the shame she had felt when all of her childhood friends started getting boyfriends and drifting away leaving her behind. Her heart lurched as she remembered having to lie saying that she was just focusing on school and that after school she would focus more on boys, hiding the fact she knew that she'd never feel that way about a boy. Nonnatus was the first place she'd ever felt at home, away from the pressure of finding a boyfriend or meeting her father's expectations. It was a place where she had been able to find people who truly cared about her, and she wasn't ready to lose that if she failed her exams. She would miss Joyce the most. Joyce had shown how to be more confident, to respect herself more, and most importantly had shown her more true kindness than everyone else ever had. As she thought about losing Joyce, her cries became louder, rattling her body as she tried to not wake Joyce. The noise woke Joyce with a groan before she quickly realized the state her friend was in.
“Rosalind?”, she called out, swinging her legs off the side of the bed so she could sit facing her friend.
“I'm sorry. I'm quite alright. Go back to bed”, Rosalind choked back, trying hard to make it sound like she wasn't crying but failing miserably.
“Child, whatever's the matter?”, she responded, walking over to sit on the edge of Rosalind's bed.
Rosalind sniffled trying to advert Joyce's gaze.
“Roz, sit up, no good will come from lying there”, she said gently rubbing her friend's arm.
Rosalind slowly sat up, turning to finally look at Joyce.
“Now tell me, what has made you so upset that you're crying at-” she quickly checked her watch “- two o'clock in the morning”.
“Hmm”, she gently squeezed Rosalind's arm when she didn't reply.
“I'm afraid of losing you” Rosalind finally responded exasperatedly.
Joyce looked at her confused, slightly tilting her head.
“I did terribly at the exam and now I'm going to have to leave nonnatus, the first place where I've felt like I've belonged, and more importantly I'm going to lose you, the person who has made me feel more at home than I have in ages” She said loudly through tears, her voice growing quieter at the end.
“You are not going to lose me” she comforted while gently cupping her face.
“But I failed my exams, I'm sure of it, and now I'm going to have to leave nonnatus and leave you”, Rosalind argued back, growing more panicked.
Joyce grasped her in a tight embrace as if to squeeze the sense back into her. Joyce started at the wall behind Rosalind, overcome with loneliness Rosalind's confession had stirred up within her. She realized that no one knew who she really was and probably never would. Rosalind and everyone at Nonnatus she had grown to care for would never know her past and could never learn her real name because it could cost her her new life. She doubted Sylvester ever truly knew her because he only ever saw her as something to control, but he was still the person who knew the most about her and that hurt, that made her want to ball up her fists and punch every unfair she had experienced until they crumpled to the floor like dust. Tears began to stream down her face as she thought of the unfairness of the man who had hurt and abused her repeatedly being allowed to know her secrets and be inseparably tied to her, but being unable to share anything with the people she cared most about because it could cost her her job and her new life. She hugged her tighter, trying to press the secrets she couldn't share into her. Rosalind rested her head on Joyce's shoulder, releasing a small sigh as she did so. “You won't lose me” Joyce comforted running her hand through Rosalind's hair. Rosalind looked up at her with a soft smile. “I've seen your work, you're more skilled than you give yourself credit for. I'm sure you passed,” Joyce added with a small nod. Rosalind let go of the hug, rubbing Joyce's arms before letting her arms rest, smiling up at Joyce again. The moonlight filtered in from the window reflecting off of Joyce's tear-streaked face, making her face seem to glisten like it speckled with pieces of silver leaf.
“What's wrong?”Rosalind asked, suddenly realizing Joyce was crying.
“I'm fine,” Joyce blinked back new tears threatening to form, as she scooched back to sit with her back resting on Rosalind's headboard. She wished she could tell her the truth, she wished that she could let herself be known. But she couldn't, not if she wanted to keep her life, not if she wanted to stay here with Rosalind. It didn't seem fair. She had the choice of being truly known but losing everything she'd worked for or keeping her success and safety but only being known as a ghost of her true self. It wasn't a choice at all. She couldn't lose everything, but that didn’t mean her chest didn't ache with the need to be known, to not live a life affected by Slyester's abuse.
“You’re clearly not fine. You're crying,” Rosalind reached out to grab Joyce's hand, her face contorted with confusion and worry.
Joyce snatched her hand away before Rosalind could even reach it. “Could you please just drop it !”Joyce shot back angrily, her voice turning into a shout at the end. “It's just I can't understa-”, she stared into Joyce's scared but unwavering eyes. “Okay…” she said, taken aback by the intensity of Joyce's pleading eyes. She had so many questions but she could tell that Joyce wasn't going to answer any of them even if she asked. She couldn't really blame her, she had kept secrets about herself for as long as she could remember.
Joyce's gaze relaxed but filled with sadness as her friend stopped pressuring her for an explanation. They both continued to stare at each other questioning each other's actions. A spark passed through them as they realized that they might be more known than they both thought.
Joyce slowly reached out and laced her fingers through Rosalind's. Rosalind squeezed her hand gently, staring at their hands sweetly. She scooched back to sit next to Joyce, her head resting on her headboard. Joyce shyly rested her head on Rosalind's shoulder, looking up at her uncertainly as she did so. Rosalind looked back at her just as uncertain but full of love and deep admiration.
“Sometimes I think I'll never be really known,” Joyce finally broke the tense silence.
Rosalind's body tensed at this. It made the fact that she would probably have to keep her sexuality secret for the rest of her life. Something about seeing another person's loneliness made her acutely aware of her own and that she'd be stuck with feeling one inch out of place forever.
“I don't think we ever truly know anyone. Everyone has their secrets,’’ Rosalind replied, her voice growing softer at the end. Joyce looked at her quizzically, beginning to think that she might be more known than she thought. That even if no one knew her past, maybe someone knew part of her pain.
“It's okay” she comforted, brushing fresh tears from Rosalind's cheeks.
Rosalind gave a small smile at this, trying to hold back more tears as she did so.
“Maybe we can know each other even with our secrets,” Joyce continued. Secrets hurt. They always do. But they were worth it if it meant keeping her new life.
“Yeah…,” Rosalind muttered, staring off into space. A quiet acceptance of how things had to be passed between them. She wasn't sure either of them wanted it to be like this. She certainly didn't. She loved Joyce enough to want to want it to be like this.
Joyce slowly linked her hand with Rosalind's, trying to fix the emptiness that had grown in the air around them. Rosalind turned to look at her sadly, somehow feeling so loved but so alone. Rosalind rested her head on Joyce's shoulder, her tired eyes fluttering closed. Her tiredness threatened to overcome the stress and quiet pain of the situation. Joyce's warmth seeping into her making her feel as though she was all consumed by it, didn't help either.
She wished she could fall asleep every night like this, her body wrapped in the warmth spreading from her friend. No one else made her feel as safe and comfortable as Joyce did almost effortlessly. She felt so known by her even if she knew she wasn't. She wanted so badly to reach out and kiss her secrets into her until their secrets became indistinguishable.
She looked back at Joyce who had already been staring at her, a spark flying as their gazes seemed to interlock together. Their shared desperation to be seen when they knew they couldn't be intensified the spark. She wanted so badly to confess, tell her she loved her, that she was more than a friend, but she couldn't because she could never risk telling that to anyone, especially someone who didn't feel the same way.
She resigned to go to bed, this desperation wasn't just going to fade anytime soon but she knew the morning would be easier if managed to get at least some sleep. She rested her head back on Joyce's shoulder letting herself fade into sleep surrounded by Joyce's warmth, murmuring good night as she did so.
Joyce knew she should move back to her bed, stop the intertwining of their lives and secrets, and wake up pretending nothing had happened the night before; but she didn't want to. She wanted to stay where she could pretend she was known. Where she wanted to pretend that they really knew each other as well as falling asleep against each other suggested. She loved Rosalind and wanted to love her as fully as she could even if Sylvester's abuse meant that her life was ruled by her past not her desires.
“I love you”, she whispered almost too quietly to hear, smoothing the hair back from Rosalind's sleeping face. She squeezed Rosalind closer, pulling the blanket over both of them. Rosalind murmured in her sleep as they shifted.
“Go to sleep child, the morning will be here sooner than you think” she comforted, trying to fall asleep herself.
Their secrets still felt like a wedge between them, keeping them in a state of perpetual loneliness; but just for a moment as they drifted off to sleep in each other's warmth they believed that maybe there was someone who knew them regardless.