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The girl from the picture in her wallet never struggled to order her own food.
Well, Marianne did, back when the picture was taken during their high school years together. But after they fell out of contact and she just became the girl in the photo- the one who Hilda pined over and thought 'what if' about whenever she opened her wallet- all she did was stare with those beautiful brown eyes.
In those 'what if' daydreams, they would meet again and it would be like no time had passed at all. Marianne would leap into her arms, and they'd both spin around, and flowers would bloom around them.
The reality had been a little less graceful- a little jealousy here, a little awkwardness there- but the two worked it out. The sad girl in the picture had become a beautiful and happier woman without her (though Hilda knows that isn't why, she still can't help but think it) and the two were set up on a date. Hilda had promised herself that she'd take it slow and court Marianne properly.
Many months later, and the two live together in a steady and exclusive relationship. And it doesn't bother Hilda that Marianne is like this, really. She's improved a lot. She managed to mostly order on her own— this time. And when they're sitting across the table at the restaurant from each other, Marianne looks beautiful in the evening light shining through the window.
But when the waiter brings her a salad with chicken on it, Marianne- who is a vegetarian- says nothing.
"I can just eat around it," she says, in the tone of someone who's going to move her food around on her plate and not eat anything. Later, the excuse would turn into "I'm just not that hungry." It's happened before.
And Hilda gets that Marianne wants to be polite, but she's not going to let her girlfriend just go hungry, especially when it can be fixed by just asking. She, herself, is very good at asking for things. "If you tell the waiter, he can fix it for you," she says.
Later on, she would realize she sounded like she was speaking to a 4-year-old and cringe at herself. Maybe that's one reason why Marianne shrugs her off. "It's really not that big of a deal."
Marianne begins rearranging salad leaves on her plate. Notably, she does not take a bite. The waiter approaches the table. "How is everything?"
"Fine—" Marianne begins.
Hilda interrupts her. "Actually, she ordered the garden salad, vegetarian."
The waiter apologizes and promises to bring the correct order as soon as possible. Hilda assures him it was just a common mix-up and gives her winning smile. Marianne stares down at her hands.
Once he's gone, Marianne speaks quietly. "Hilda, that really wasn't necessary…"
"If you weren't going to ask, then I will. I really don't mind asking."
Marianne doesn't look up. "It's not about that. I just… don't like to cause trouble."
"But it's not trouble?" Hilda says. "We're paying for the food. We're going to leave a tip. So it's not, like, unreasonable to ask for you to get what you ordered, especially if the meal they brought you instead isn't something you can eat."
Marianne just gives a little nod, and Hilda knows she fucked up. When the waiter brings the garden salad, Marianne only picks at it a little bit.
When Hilda goes to pay for the meal, the girl in the photo stares up at her with those familiar brown eyes. She would never say she longs for that poor sad girl now that she can hold the real woman herself in her arms every night.
But when Marianne won't talk to her on the drive home and her head hurts and it's been a long week and she knows she screwed up her one chance this week to have a good day with Marianne— it's tough, sometimes.
The worst part about having panic attacks is that just thinking that one might happen can cause it to happen.
The second worst part- in Marianne's opinion, at least- is that when she's laying on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, waiting to stop feeling like she's going to die, she notices all the long pink hairs that Hilda left on the floor after she combed earlier.
This is how she winds up sweeping at 2 AM, and since she's already up, she might as well put some of the loose products and crafting supplies and sparkling water cans away. She's working on picking up loose socks by the time Hilda trots out of bed, still wearing Marianne's old hoodie.
"I didn't realize the mess was that bad," Hilda mumbles, her eyes barely open.
"It's not," Marianne says, only lying a little. "I just wanted to tire myself out."
Hilda wraps her arms around Marianne from behind. "Couldn't sleep?" She mumbles, into her shoulder. "Or…"
"Don't worry. I'm used to it."
Hilda mumbles something, leaning more of her weight on Marianne. She leans back into the embrace. A faint beam of light from the slit in the curtain cuts through the dark room.
"You need to get your beauty sleep," Marianne says, breaking the silence. "I know you have a big day tomorrow."
She groans. "I hate working with Lorenz, though. He's so freaking annoying."
"You'll be done before you know it. Come on."
"Will you lay down with me, at least? Please?"
Marianne puts aside the socks she was carrying. Hilda leads her back to bed by the hand. As soon as they lay down, Hilda wraps around her like a koala and doesn't let go.
She remembers the leftovers of the garden salad are still in the fridge. Her stomach growls. Marianne stares at the wall.
"Hey," she says, quietly, testing if Hilda is still awake.
"Hmm? Mari?"
She nearly stops— and then it all comes out. "I'm sorry for being difficult the other day in the restaurant. I thought if I asked the waiter for a new meal, or made you ask, it would ruin your evening."
And that's not what the panic attack was about. It was just a stupid salad. Marianne is used to disappointments like that. But the fact that Marianne could tell Hilda was upset and didn't say anything on the car ride home made her realize that she had ruined her night anyway.
No response. Marianne thinks Hilda must be giving her the silent treatment. Then she hears the snore.
It's fine. She was being silly, anyway, bringing up something that happened days ago. And for what, to mollify herself? She's just going to make another mistake like that soon.
Marianne knows that in moments like this, she should redirect her thoughts. Maybe practice a little mindful meditation, clear her mind until she can fall asleep.
But they've been together for over a year now. It's only inevitable that the longer their relationship goes on, the more mistakes she'll make, the more opportunities she'll have to hurt and disappoint Hilda. Taking antidepressants won't change that fact.
After the supposedly one hour long meeting runs for two, Hilda walks out to her car only to find a tire has gone flat. She just had it replaced a few weeks ago. When she spots a random rusty nail poking out of it, she groans.
As much as she flirts with the mechanic, the price still chews up her budget. Getting her nails done with the girls gets pushed back to next month, even though hers are badly chipped.
The sun is setting by the time she makes it back to their apartment. She shoves open the door and kicks off her shoes, not caring where they land. "I'm home!" she calls out.
No response. Hilda tiptoes through the apartment, turning on the lights as she goes. Did Marianne go out? But she doesn't drive, so she would've had to walk, and it's starting to get dark.
Once she flips the switch in the bedroom, the light illuminates a very sad-looking lump of blankets. A messy nest of blue hair pokes out the top. A pair of watery brown eyes, puffy from crying, peer out from a crack in the fabric.
"Mari," Hilda asks, "are you okay?"
Marianne mumbles something. Hilda steps closer to the blanket lump. It shuffles back further onto the bed.
"Have you gotten out of bed today?"
"A bit."
Marianne had seemed fine when Hilda left this morning. Hilda sits at the foot of the bed and places a hand between them. "What happened? Do you want to talk about it?"
A long silence follows. Marianne tries to speak, but has to clear her throat and restart after a failed attempt. "I was fine, but… I had to make a call, and the person on the phone kept calling me 'sir'. And I just kind of broke down after that." Tears begin to well up in her eyes again. "It's really stupid. Sorry. I thought I was doing better with my voice, but—"
"It's not stupid! That jerk was being a total dick." Hilda has half a mind to call that person herself and teach them a lesson. "Your voice is so soft and beautiful, Marianne. I'm not just saying that."
"Thank you," Marianne says, in the tone of someone who absolutely thinks Hilda is just saying that to make her feel better.
"… It must be hard to deal with," Hilda sighs, letting the anger dissipate. "No matter how much work you put in, there will always be people who just don't like you on principle. I've had to deal with people like that, even though they hated me for different reasons."
"How did you deal with it?"
"Honestly? I just had to stop caring about what they think. What matters is that you think I'm amazing and beautiful and good at what I do, and so do my friends and family and the people who really matter."
Easier said than done, though. She's gotten used to criticism, but it can still linger with her. Marianne could even tell she was being mean to herself inside her head, once.
After a moment, a hand reaches out from the lump of blankets and rests atop Hilda's own. Hilda smiles. "Have you eaten anything?"
"Not since breakfast."
"How about we order delivery? We can order from that place with the great stir fry you really like."
She can see those cute sad eyes widen. "Really?"
"Really."
Slowly, Marianne allows Hilda to lead her out of the depression nest. She's still in her pajamas and her hair is everywhere. Hilda still thinks she looks absolutely beautiful.
"Maybe I should wash up first," Marianne says, looking down at herself.
"I could really use a hot shower, myself. Want to share?"
She wasn't expecting anything sexual to come of it, but Marianne goes red and turns away. Maybe it was a bad idea to ask on a dysphoria day. Though she really would like to show Marianne how cute she really is— maybe this isn't the time.
(Stupid, selfish Hilda, she thinks to herself.)
Hilda changes tracks. "I can wait, too. Gives me time to order. Want me to draw you a bubble bath?"
Those usually work well; the bubbles help hide parts of Marianne from herself that she doesn't want to look at.
"O-okay." Marianne smiles sheepishly. Hilda smiles and goes to draw the bath.
Once the bath is drawn- with bath bomb and candles lit for ambiance, by the way- Hilda goes to order the food. She picks out Marianne's favorite dish, adds something for herself, and the result is a price far more than what she's used to.
They must have raised prices for delivery. Hilda nearly throws her phone, but manages to restrain herself. She doesn't need another bill on top of everything. She already promised Marianne her favorite, so she grits her teeth and orders it anyway.
She rewards herself with scrolling on Instagram for a while only to get a concerned text from her brother, Holst. Hilda can't imagine what he's worrying about now. She ignores it only to get a second one, then a third— 'do you need to reschedule?'
That gets her attention. It hits her that she had scheduled a video call with Holst and completely forgot about it. She can't start one now, though, she has a night in planned with Marianne. It makes her feel like a total ass, but she makes up an excuse and tries to reschedule.
Tomorrow is the only time that will work for them both in the next month, so Hilda decides to go for it, even though she was hoping to use the day for some time to herself. It will be fine. It has to be fine.
A little more scrolling- and fuck, the news headlines are scary right now- and then Marianne is out of the bath, wearing the fuzzy bathrobe that Hilda bought her, her hair all wrapped up. Hilda squeals. "You're so adorable!"
"Thank you, Hilda. I feel a little better." She has a little smile on that makes Hilda want to kiss her all over. "The bathroom is free if you want to shower."
"Okay!" She should comb her hair, too. Hilda saunters past Marianne, giving her girlfriend a kiss on the cheek as she passes by. "Pick out a movie, alright?"
By the time Hilda gets out of the shower, Marianne has put on a sweater and a fresh set of pajama pants. She bashfully holds up the DVD of Spirit to her face so that her hopeful eyes peer over the top.
"Is that the one you want?" Hilda asks. Marianne has seen this movie at least one hundred times.
"If, um. If it's not too much trouble."
Hilda kisses her on the forehead. "It's no trouble at all."
She goes to put on something more comfortable, too. As soon as she steps into her favorite pajama set, she hears the sound of fabric ripping.
Hilda looks down and sees the rip runs across the crotch. It looks like it will be hard to sew up, at least without obvious and ugly stitches. She sadly takes the pajama pants off, cradling them like a dying animal.
Rest in peace, cute pajama pants. Maybe she'll find a way to recycle the fabric later.
When Hilda returns to the living room in her second favorite pajama set, the food has finally arrived and Marianne's order is wrong again.
"It's okay, really," Marianne is saying, again, "I'll just make a salad."
"I wanted this to be special for you," Hilda insists. "Take mine instead."
Marianne looks at her so sweetly that her heart nearly bursts. "Are you sure?"
"I got the fried tofu because I thought you might want to try some. It's not your favorite, but you can still eat it at least."
Marianne reluctantly takes the fried tofu— thank the Goddess. Hilda takes Marianne's, which turned out to be deep fried pork. It's not something she would have ordered herself, but she doesn't want to waste the money.
(She'll have to brush her teeth before she lets herself kiss Marianne again, though.)
The two cuddle up afterward and watch Spirit for the umpteenth time. When Hilda thinks about it, a new romantic comedy she was hoping to watch might be out. They can watch it next time, maybe.
Maybe.
As the movie plays, it isn't about watching Spirit so much as it is watching Marianne. No matter how many times she watches it, her eyes light up and she gets so excited like its the first time. Basked in the distant blue light, Marianne looks radiant.
Once the movie comes to a close, Marianne turns to her. "Hilda… thank you. I really don't… well. I know that saying don't deserve you is a bad thought, but…"
"It is." Hilda realizes she's a hypocrite. "But at least you caught it."
"I just know you had a long day, too," Marianne says, sinking a little further into her seat. "I know it's a pain to take care of me when I get like this."
"Even if it was, and it's not, it would be worth it. You're worth it."
Slowly, Marianne leans in. Hilda takes a moment to admire her before leaning in and kissing her.
When she spoke them, her words were true. But she still holds Marianne as the big spoon that night, wondering what it would be like to be the little spoon instead.
Some days are fine. Some days, Marianne feels like depression is crushing her. In the past, she didn't have any days off from it, so she really has improved.
But also, in the past, she didn't have Hilda to drag down with her. And while she helps- a lot- Marianne can't help but wonder if being with her is making things worse. Because Marianne knows she's dragging Hilda down, and upsetting her girlfriend makes her depression worse, and it forms a vicious cycle that doesn't plan on letting her escape anytime soon.
Any day, Hilda will wake up and realize she loved the idea of Marianne in that photo and not the girl within it.
It's always been that way; Marianne is used to it. Other girls couldn't deal with her baggage, or her shyness, or they just didn't like the reality of being with a trans woman— the dysphoria, the harassment from others, the way she can go weeks without wanting to have sex.
Marianne learned to content herself on whatever scraps of affection she could receive and pretend that the love she felt from the Goddess may have been what it felt like to be loved as a woman. And when Hilda finally asked her out, she almost said no. It wasn't because she didn't want it, because Goddess she knows she does, but because she isn't sure she can handle it when Hilda finally finds someone better.
Hilda finishes crying in the car and takes several deep breaths.
A little makeup later, even she herself can hardly tell. She turns off the car and walks to their apartment.
To her surprise, she's greeted by a pleasant scent from the kitchen. Marianne stands before a bubbling pot of soup, wearing a white apron, her hair tied back.
"Welcome home," Marianne says, smiling. She leans in for a kiss.
Right before their lips meet, she hesitates, looking Hilda in the eye. Is she seeing right through her? Hilda can struggle to tell. If so, she doesn't say anything— she just leans in and presses her lips against Hilda's own.
Hilda feels herself melt. She nearly collapses into Marianne's arms, letting Marianne plant kisses all over her face. The relief that Marianne is feeling better is overwhelming. She still wants to be strong, needs to be strong, because what if it comes back? Hilda isn't selfish enough to start inundating Marianne with her stupid problems and make Marianne feel awful all over again.
So she picks herself up and turns her attention to the soup on the stove before the tears start welling up. "Ooh, is that what I think it is?"
"Yes, it's Cheesy Verona Stew. I wanted to make something special for you."
"Mari, you didn't have to—"
"I know. I wanted to." Her smile takes on a sly look. "This is one order that can't be wrong."
It's meant as a joke, but Hilda feels like a failure all over again. It might not have been her fault, but she still remembers how Marianne felt after. "Yeah. That's true, haha."
Marianne hesitates. The pot bubbles on the stove.
Finally, she says: "Would you like to eat first and then take a bath, or the other way around?"
"I want to eat. I'm starving." She realizes she sounds like a whiny child. She reaches for a bowl, but Marianne stills her hand.
"I'll serve you. Would you like something special to drink? I have some cider that I purchased."
"Sounds fancy. What's the occasion?"
"No occasion. It's just that you're worth it as well."
Hilda doesn't know what to say. She lets herself be led to the table, lets herself be served and have her drink poured for her. It's something she thought she always wanted, to be waited on hand and foot, but being with Marianne made her not mind doing the same for her instead.
And now look at her, making a depressed woman take care of her. She bites her lip to keep herself from crying. And then she realizes she really is hungry and that might be contributing to her about to totally snap.
She raises the spoon to her lips. The soup really is delicious. Marianne sits across from her, smiling cutely. "Do you like it?"
Hilda has to force herself not to cry, she's so overwhelmed. "I love it."
By the time she's finished, Marianne has left the table early and Hilda hears the distinct sound of Lo-Fi music playing somewhere else in the apartment.
She follows it to the bathroom where a bubble bath has been drawn and candles have been lit. Marianne smiles sheepishly. "I got the idea from the best."
"You know what I like," Hilda says, a laugh on her voice. "Is this really for me?"
"Yes. Or, um, for us. If you want."
Her mouth forms an o. "You want to join me?"
"I didn't feel well enough last time, but I thought it might be nice. It would be like that one night after we first moved in together, and…" Even now, her cheeks go pink. She's so adorable that Hilda wants to kiss her all over.
And maybe she will! But the last thing she wants is pity sex. "You really don't have to if you don't want to, Mari. I mean it."
That seems to make her relax a little. "Maybe it won't go as far as- ahem- that night. But I would like to be close to you."
She can only take her word for it. And then Marianne helps her get that one zipper on the back of her top, take off that necklace with the clasp that always gets stuck, take off those leggings and soon she's naked in front of Marianne.
For a strange moment, she feels shy— maybe it's because Marianne is still fully dressed, maybe because it's been a while since they had sex, maybe because she feels like she really has put on a little weight and that's why her pajamas ripped. And it's that point in the relationship where people start to realize that they've had enough of her; they had their fun and want to move onto the next conquest.
But instead of anything else, Marianne smiles at her, forming these adorable dimples on her rosy cheeks. "You're so beautiful."
"Aww, Mari," she says, almost laughing with relief. "I know. And you're entirely overdressed."
Marianne, who dresses for comfort, has a much easier time disrobing— mostly taking off her sweater and long skirt. Hilda does the clasp on the back of her bra, not because she can't do it, but because it's become a bit of a thing for them. When the bra falls off revealing the uninterrupted bare skin of her back, and then Marianne turns around while covering herself shyly, Hilda thinks she's the sexiest girl in the world and she doesn't even know it.
"I… think they may have gotten bigger again," Marianne admits, breaking the silence. "I didn't know that was still possible after so many years on estrogen."
"The body is always changing." Hilda grins. "I'll still love you even if you have bigger boobs than me."
"I don't think they're that big." Marianne can't hide her smile, though. Hilda hopes that helps with the dysphoria a little.
She gets in the tub first, deciding not to stare. Marianne gets in behind her and presses her boobs against Hilda's back. The water is warm and bubbly and smells like spice. Her favorite music hums on in the background.
The rest of the day melts away, especially once taMarianne starts rubbing her shoulders. "You looked tense," she says. "Let me take care of you."
She wants to ask why. She's also afraid of ruining it. For the moment, she lets Marianne rub the knots out of her shoulders and then get to work washing her hair.
Things don't escalate from there, but Hilda doesn't need it to. Being intimate with Marianne like this, skin against skin, sharing a hot bath with the woman she loves— that's all she needs.
What really gets her, though, is when her favorite pajamas have been fixed.
"My friend Bernadetta is a good seamstress, actually," Marianne says to an incredulous Hilda. "I thought it was odd you weren't wearing them the other day and discovered what happened. So I thought…"
"How did she fix this? It was totally torn up!"
"I mean, it's not exactly like it was before."
When Hilda looks closer, some of the fabric used to patch the pajamas up doesn't quite match. Still, that gives it a story— and she appreciates the fact that Marianne went to these lengths to have them repaired.
She lies down in bed. Marianne cuddles up behind her and holds her as the big spoon. Then, and only then, is Hilda unable to stop herself from crying.
Marianne doesn't say anything; she just holds her a little tighter. She continues crying until she's hiccuping and her nose is clogged. Marianne even seems to have prepared for that, because the next thing she knows, Marianne is holding out a box of tissues for her. She gratefully takes one.
"I'm sorry," Hilda says, drying her tears. "It really was a great evening. It's— it's not your fault."
"I know."
Marianne chews her lip, then adds: "I mean… I haven't made things easier on you, making you take care of me all the time. But—"
"You don't make me do anything. I take care of you because I want to."
"And the same for you," Marianne says. "I meant to say, rationally, I know it's not all my fault that you're having a tough time. But it still feels like it is. I was worried you were going to get sick of me."
Hilda turns around to face her. "Um, sick of you? No way! I thought you were sick of me," she says, her voice shaky. "Usually it's around this point when, like… people realize I'm way more of a high maintenance girlfriend than they thought. It's beyond just buying things for me, y'know?"
"Something similar has happened to me," Marianne admits. "But I don't feel sick of you at all, either. You do so much for me, Hilda. And I'm glad that tonight, you let me take care of you, also."
Their eyes meet, and for a while, they just look at one another. Hilda can't claim to know exactly what's on Marianne's mind, but it must have been obvious to her that she had been struggling— maybe even from the moment she got home.
"I'll… try to work on my negative thoughts still if you'll work on your own," Marianne says. "Together."
"It's a deal."
Marianne leans in. Hilda meets her halfway.
Their lips meet- hesitantly at first- and then she's smiling, and she feels Marianne smiling too. Marianne's lips are a little chapped, and Hilda accidentally tilts her head at the wrong angle, and they both wind up giggling so much they can't finish the kiss.
It's perfect.
They pull back and fall into what should be a companionable silence. Hilda speaks up first. "I can tell something's still on your mind."
Marianne takes several false starts, but then finally manages— "Do you like me more than the girl in the photo?"
It takes her a minute to process. When she realizes what Marianne means, her heart nearly breaks all over again. "Obviously I like you a ton more than the girl in the photo! Did you think I preferred that version of you from all those years ago?"
"Perhaps I thought so a little bit."
Hilda shakes her head vigorously. "Tomorrow, we're taking a new picture and replacing that old one. Okay?"
"Only if you let me take you on a date, so we can remember it," Marianne says. "And… if the order is wrong again when we go out to eat again, I'll try to tell the server if it is something I can't eat."
"Okay. But I'll let you be the one to do it if you want, okay?"
Hilda pulls Marianne closer. "Okay."
Hilda's car hasn't had any issues since the tire burst several months ago, but Hilda realizes she needs gas, so she pulls over even though she's running late for a meeting.
She knows she should have left earlier, but Marianne was snuggling her and she was really cozy. She kicks herself over it now. Lorenz is blowing up her phone with messages. She puts it on silent.
I'm such an idiot, she thinks. Why am I still stuck working these dumb contracts?
As she's paying, she opens her wallet. A picture of herself and Marianne greets her on the inside. The two of them are absolutely beaming. A lipstick kiss mark is on Marianne's cheek and Hilda's own lipstick in the picture is smudged.
Instantly, the stress of the day and the upcoming meeting she's late for all melt away. She hears Marianne's voice in her head reminding her to be nicer to herself.
Reframe. She's not an idiot, she just happens to be running late. It's not her fault that traffic is backed up right now, anyway. And it's not her fault she has the cutest girlfriend in the world and wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.
The old photo had been relegated to a scrapbook that they had started together. She still thinks that picture of Marianne back from her high school days is cute— but she wouldn't trade the photo of them together for anything.