Page 86 of Sleep

“I got brave. Browsed through all sorts of interesting things.”

“These plugs are excellent. Exactly what I would have bought. The fleshlight. Good choice. I’ve tried one of these. Hooked up with someone who was obsessed with them. Good fun. That was years ago, though, and I think they’ve improved the design since.”

“Are we seriously standing here discussing sex toys?”

“Well, if we’re going to be serious…” They laughed. I loved that they did. “Did you buy lube?”

“Well, I did do my research. There’s lube in there, somewhere, and condoms.”

They rummaged at the bottom of the box, coming back up with a grin.

“Then, there is…magic!”

“That’s what it said in the reviews. Self-warming, allegedly.”

“This is the good stuff,” they promised, leaning in for another kiss.

I loved the heels they wore because they made them impossibly tall. And it made me feel…I didn’t know. Small, maybe? In need of protection?

Protected. The way their arms just folded around me, making me lean into their chest. Bare skin against my cheek, the soft scent of them. Nothing between us.

“My mum went into the hospice today. She hasn’t got long.”

“Oh, Pickle.”

And here I’d been waving dildos in the air when they were clearly distressed.

“Don’t,” they said sternly. “I know you haven’t met my parents yet, but it’s…the hospice…”

“Come,” I said quietly. “Sit with me.”

We didn’t sit. We did what I realised was very much us. We curled up on the sofa, our legs underneath us, arms all over the place as I lay my head against their chest. They’d lost their jacket; I’d discarded mine. My belt was undone. Their fingers combed through my hair.

“Mum started to get unwell many years ago. She gradually lost the use of her thoughts, her memory, her body. Then she stopped talking. Didn’t recognise me or Dad. She lost everything else a little at a time until there was nothing left. The doctors don’t know if she has any senses left, if she knows anything apart from that she feels pain. And she’s in pain now, which is why she’s in the hospice where they can keep her comfortable until the end. We know this is the end.”

“I’m so sorry.” There were never enough words to say. I had never known loss, not like they obviously did.

“Don’t be. She knew what was coming. She sat down with me, and we had that conversation over and over again until it became less traumatic. We talked about death and laughed. She knew what would happen to her and how things would end. She knew, and she told me not to ever feel bad. That even if she couldn’t tell me anymore, she would love me. Desperately and wholly and fully, with every last breath of hers. She made me promise I’d remember that.”

“She sounds like a wonderful mum.”

“She is. Not always perfect, but none of us are. She made mistakes. But she always, always told me how perfect I was. Even when I set fire to the bin. When I broke her favourite vase. I ruined a half-done wedding dress once, spilling juice all over the delicate lace. She couldn’t salvage it and sat there and cried. I cried too. But she just hugged me and said it didn’t matter. Not in the end. And she was right. It didn’t. It was just one of those things.”

“Mabel.”

“Yes?”

“I just love saying your name. And when I say it, you stroke my hair.”

I sounded like a child, but right now, I felt so incredibly loved. So close to them. So…at peace.

“I always loved that name.”

“Would you tell me about your name? Why you chose it?”

“It wasn’t really me who chose it. Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to know. I want to understand. I need to know all about you. And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but… You can always talk to me, Pickle. I don’t care about the rules. I truly don’t care. I want to know about the ex-husband. The skirts. The wedding shop. Your parents.” I was getting far too animated, waving my arms around. “I want to know you. Everything about you. Don’t ever feel there are things you can’t tell me, because you can.”

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