Page 85 of Emma
They fell into step, footsteps pounding in unison as they took the ramp towards the exit. A couple of older students slouchedpast them, offered Emma a distracted ‘Miss’, and kept going. As they reached the reception area, Emma noted just how dark it was outside. The winter nights were officially here, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she would one day be lounging on the couch, drinking hot chocolate with Freya.
“Are you warm enough?” Emma asked as they stepped outside and cut across the paving towards the main gates.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Still sweating from running after you.” Freya offered a simple lift of the shoulder and slowed her pace. Emma matched it, unsure of what was running through Freya’s mind. “Can I ask you something?”
Emma smiled. “You can ask me anything.”
“Is it true that you’re a lesbian and you’re married to Mrs Hughes, who teaches Business Studies?”
Emma loved how Freya explained exactly who Mrs Hughes was. “That’s…quite the question.”
Freya winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that people say things, and I overhear them. Someone said Mrs Hughes is a lesbian, and they caught you two kissing in the car one morning.”
“Well, that’ll teach us to kiss outside school, won’t it?” Emma nudged Freya’s shoulder and smiled. “But yes, I am a lesbian, and Mrs Hughes is my wife. I just use my old surname so you lot don’t get confused.”
“I’ve never known a real lesbian before.”
Emma tried with all her strength to hold back the laugh threatening in her throat. She didn’t want Freya to feel silly for saying that. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you that it’s all very similar to your house. We got married, we pay the bills and the mortgage, and we argue over who stacks the dishwasher.”
“You argue about the dishwasher?”
“Religiously,” Emma said. “Vanessa swears that the bowls belong on the top shelf. I, depending on the depth of the bowl, believe they go in the bottom rack.”
“That’s crazy behaviour!”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “For who? Which side of the argument are you on?”
Freya sighed as she pondered her answer for a moment. “Well, yours because you’re my sister. We have to stick together. But then Ireallylike Mrs Hughes, and I don’t want her to feel bad or ganged up on. Do I have to choose?”
“Absolutely not. Vanessa always gets her way, anyway.”
They walked across the grounds in silence, and Freya edged fractionally closer to Emma without realising she’d done so. That tiny fact left Emma feeling tremendous amounts of love in her chest.
“So,” Freya said suddenly. “What’s it like being a lesbian?”
Emma considered her response. She didn’t want Freya to think there was only one response that fit the shape of every lesbian out there. She also had to remember that Freya was only twelve. “For me, it’s just who I am. I fell in love with a woman who is the greatest person I know. We made a life together. Some people have opinions about it, but most people don’t care. And the ones who do care, we don’t give much of our time to.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“But if people end up knowing you and I are sisters, and anyone says anything unkind to you, you tell an adult. Me, Mrs Hughes, Ms Hamilton. Anyone you feel comfortable with. But most people are just curious, and that’s okay.”
“I don’t think they were being mean,” Freya said. “It’s more like…they like to say ‘lesbian’ in a silly voice because they think it’s a swear word.”
“Yep. I get that.”
Freya chewed the inside of her cheek as she stopped at the gates with Emma. “Is that why Mrs Hughes went to the meeting with you? I saw her going up the stairs to the staffroom that day.”
“That is why she was there, yes.”
“Can I meet her properly? Not as my teacher but as your wife?”
God, when Freya said things like that, Emma had to wonder if she was so articulate at that age. She doubted it since she rarely strung two sentences together in public, but it was heartwarming to see. Freya had so much potential. “Of course. But again, one day…”
Emma glanced across the street. A navy Volvo sat waiting, its hazard lights blinking. Ben lifted a hand from the steering wheel and waved at Emma, and she quickly returned one of her own. Freya didn’t move towards the car right away. Instead, she hovered, that restless bouncing on the spot another reminder that she was just a child.
“Thank you for walking with me.” Freya cast her gaze on the ground, then looked back up at Emma. “And for the email.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I like walking with you.”
