27 May 2022

Score: Strawberries and Cigarettes - Troye Sivan

Mark

"Come on, Mark, you can't keep hiding in here all night! Everyone will be so happy to see you!"

"I'm not hiding. I just came to see you and to tell you that we're neighbours now," I fold my arms over my chest, leaning against the counter in Aunty Dee's greenhouse. My dad bought the neighbouring mansion. He's always wanted to get an estate home in Hertfordshire, and, once he got the money, he did it, I guess.

"But you have to come say hi to Lydia, at least," Gloria stomps her foot.

Gloria's eighteen-year-old self is just as sassy as her eight-year-old self had once been. Even more. She's even more grown-up now, and she looks a bit older for her age. She's wearing a ton of make-up, and absolutely reeks of Dior Sauvage, which is OK, I guess. She has a boyfriend now, a new kid. His dad's in Parliament. She looks ecstatic about it.

"No, Glo, I'm jet-lagged, and I don't really want to see anybody. I got off a ten-and-a-half-hour flight two hours ago. I just want to go to bed." I shake my head.

But Gloria won't give up without a fight.

"Just one drink, OK? One drink, and you leave. I'll even have someone drop you off at your place." She hooks her arm around my elbow and literally drags me toward the door of the greenhouse.

"OK, but just one, and I'm off."

I start walking towards the exit of the greenhouse, with Gloria by my side, thinking about the last time I had been in this place.

The past two years have been absolute hell for me.

First, the pandemic. I couldn't board a plane to London when I got to Amsterdam, and I got stuck in there for five weeks before my dad finally managed to get me out. He was so pissed off he nearly disowned me, right then and there.

Then, in the middle of covid, my little sister, Lilly, got diagnosed with leukemia.

Now that nearly broke me. But her resilience and bravery inspired me to move on, every single day.

It's incredible how much strength and courage can be contained within a tiny little body like hers. She's been an absolute champ, going through chemo and all the other treatments.

Then, my parents split up. I think it was partially because of Lilly's illness. My mum's entire focus shifted to taking care of her. My dad didn't quite know what to do about it at the time, and my mum got angry with him, saying that he didn't care enough. I know he did care, in his own way, but sometimes, I really think he could be doing a better job as a parent.

He found a clinical trial for some new treatment, running in America, and used his connections to secure a spot for Lilly. My mum and Lilly left for LA last summer, and I joined them soon after for uni.

Now, my dad's getting remarried. That's why I'm here, in England, for the summer. Though, I'm not staying in London. No fucking way. I don't want to stay around my dad's future wife and her daughter and play happy family, while my sister is laying in a hospital bed in California, plugged into all sorts of machines.

I'll take some time to travel. See my friends. Maybe even go back to Amsterdam, and I'll be off for university again, right after the wedding. I won't stay even a minute more than absolutely necessary.

I got into UCLA. I fulfilled my dad's dream. But, I chose a different major. I'm not going to Med or Pharm School.

I am a Psychology major. I picked it, because of Lydia. She's been gushing about how much she wanted to study Psychology since she turned twelve. And, because I wasn't really sure what I wanted to major in, I picked it up, as a reminder of her.

I haven't spoken to her at all since the pandemic hit. I know she's been through some horrible stuff herself, but I was too focused on the shit, going on in my own life to have the capacity to share hers, as well.

I know that Aunty Lizzie tried to end her life by taking a handful of pills and that she's now living in France. I didn't reach out to Lydia when I found out. At the point the news had gotten out to me, it felt too late to try and contact her.

I know she's been with Patrick since they got back from Italy. I've seen their photos all over her social media.

They look happy. She looks happy.

Damn, they look like they've been taken from a fucking magazine.

Don't get me wrong, they do appear in magazines quite a lot, as well. I was cringing every time I saw her and John on the pages of some shitty tabloid, hiding their faces from the paparazzi, when Lizzie took those pills.

Patrick had been there for her the entire time. I saw him in some of the paparazzi photos, too. At least she had somebody by her side. Even if it had to be Patrick.

It's fine. Everything that happened on that vacation in Italy is in the past now. It was all childish and stupid, anyways. I can't wrap my head around how, in the world, could I have been so immature back then, in the light of the two years that I have had.

Of course, I've been thinking about Lydia, over these years. Sometimes, I'd have dreams about her. Her eyes, her lips, her hair. At some point, I really wanted to call her just to hear her voice. Just to stay on the phone with her, even if we didn't say a word to each other. To get proof that she's real.

Couldn't get myself to do it, though.

I kept my word to Patrick and never approached her.

And, gradually, I felt like I had moved on past the obsession I got with her.

Maybe Patrick was right that night. Maybe it was all because I didn't want him to have her, and not so much that I really wanted her for myself.

Anyway, I felt really bad about ghosting her. Fuck, I still feel really bad about ghosting her. A part of me hopes that, by some miracle, I won't see her at all tonight.

I am so nervous right now, as I am walking out of the greenhouse. My stomach is painfully clenched and my mouth is as dry as the fucking Sahara.

I step onto the tiles, leading across a grass patch to the main patio of Aunty Dee's estate home. There are many people, there, drinking, dancing, and getting in and out of the heated outdoor pool. I recognize some faces, but there are also many new ones.

I squint my eyes against the light, coming from the patio. Gloria's gone all-in on this party. There's even a dress code. Black and white. Classy.

"Just wait until Lydia sees you, Mark! She's gonna fucking piss herself!" Gloria laughs by my side.

And then, I see her. Well, not her, because what I see doesn't resemble a human being at first. It is a wild mess of legs, arms, and tousled hair, sprinting toward me across the tile. Before I realize what's happening, the human version of a Tasmanian Devil leaps off her feet and crashes against my body, nearly knocking me off my feet, wrapping her arms and legs around my torso. Her hair is suddenly in my face and I can feel her breath, hot on my neck.

I just stand there, stunned, for a second, before wrapping my arms around her small frame.

My breath catches in my throat. My heart is threatening to burst out of my chest. A sudden heat wave washes all over my body, from my head, all the way down to my toes, and then back up again.

Then, after the visceral reaction of my body to hers, the emotions kick in. They sweep me up like a tidal wave, threatening to knock me over, pull me under and drag me to the bottom of the deepest ocean.

All of a sudden, I can feel how much I have missed her. I feel remorse, for the time she hadn't been in my life. I feel painful embarrassment for having ghosted her for over two years. She didn't deserve that, not one bit. She didn't even know about the stupid bet.

But, above all, I feel this fierce protectiveness over her. Like, I want to hide her away from all the bad stuff in the world.

She's seen enough pain and suffering.

I inhale the scent of her hair, squeezing her a little tighter in my hug. She smells like grass, honey, and summer.

It's like I've been living in the winter for the past two years of my life, and she's my personal summer, and I don't want it to be winter, ever again. I'm tired of the frost and the cold. I want the warmth of the sun on my skin, melting all the way down to my frozen heart.

I try to say something, anything, but the lump in my throat doesn't let me.

Where the hell did that come from?

I can feel her chest, heaving from her running against mine, and I can't believe I'm holding her again, after all this time.

After what seems like a mini-eternity, with the birth and death of stars and shit, Lydia finally lifts her face off my shoulder and looks at me, her smile making me want to rip my heart out of my chest and serve it to her on a silver platter.

"Mark!" her voice breaks the spell and the world comes in rushing around us again. "What are you doing here?"