Page 28 of Going Solo

“You OK, Tobes?” She rubbed my back with her hand.

“Leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that, babes. Not till I know you’re OK.”

“I’m not OK. I’ll never be OK again!”

She held my shoulder and tried to roll me over. I buried my face deeper in the pillow.

“Look at me.”

“No!”

“Look at me.”

She sunk her nails in, deep enough to show she was serious. I rolled over.

“Sit up. Come on.”

I did as I was told, and my aunt folded me up in a hug.

“I love the bones of you, Toby. You know that?”

I nodded.

“And I’m so bloody proud of you. That was a brave thing you done.”

“Everyone’s laughing at me.”

My aunt pulled back, one hand gripping my shoulder, her piercing blue eyes staring fiercely into mine.

“I’m not being funny, but fuck ’em, babes. You spoke your truth.”

“It’s a stupid saying! It was a joke, and it’s ruined my life.”

“Only if you let it, Toby Lyngstad.” A fierce watermelon-pink nail sliced the air, millimetres from my face. “What you done, going to that audition, getting as far as you did on that show—and doing it all as your true self, not hiding anything, putting your heart and soul out there. I’ve never been so proud of you in my whole life. And I was so proud of you the first time you did a poop on the potty, I kept the photo on my fridge until you were five.”

“A photo of… my poop?”

“No, you melt, a picture of you on the potty. What are you like?”

“I do not remember this.”

Aunty Cheryl’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. She squeezed me, rocking me from side to side. I buried my face in her hair extensions. “I’ve got a scrapbook of everything you ever done, Sonny Jim. Did you know that?”

I sniffed. “No.”

“I do. I’ve got all the programmes from your school nativities. That get-well card you drew for me when I got my boobs done. And I’ve been keeping all the articles aboutMake Me a Pop Startoo.”

“You can chuck those out.”

“I know you’re hurting right now, babes. But one day you’ll want to look back on this experience, and you’ll be glad someone kept a record. Who knows what this might all lead to.”

“Public humiliation and heartbreak?”

“That’s the risk we take when we dare to dream. What matters, Tobes, is that we continue to dream.”

That was too much. I choked on my sobs. Aunty Cheryl gently rubbed my back, listening to me cry.

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