Tilly
Watching Evie chat and smile at Laura should have made Tilly want to run.
And maybe it did. But she managed to breathe through it and fake her way through surviving, as she often did.
It was watching so many aspects of her world collide that did it: her Perth life, her best friend, the woman she…had feelings for, her sister, her family, her birth child, her secret.
But mostly, it was amusing. Interesting. Evie was used to working with people. She had an ease about her, a way of smiling and drawing a person out of her shell. That’s what her work was all about, really. Laura, day two post-kidney transplant, had colour in her cheeks and a weak smile, and a glint in her eye that was anything but weak. She was exhausted, having been with the physiotherapist all morning to get her moving and the black smudges under her eyes were stark. Since she’d been born, you could see when she was tired. Even when she was tiny, she’d get dark bags under her eyes if she didn’t sleep well.
Tilly was lucky.
She knew that. There were birth mothers that had given their babies up in a hush, signing papers without understanding their rights. Ones who regretted later that they hadn’t asked for a more open adoption, ones who regretted it completely, ones who hadn’t seen their baby since they’d handed it over in a hospital and that loss lingered.
Tilly knew all the stories. She’d read obsessively. She went to a support group for people who’d given up their babies that her therapist and parents suggested. And it helped. Because so many people there had all the same mixed-up, convoluted feelings she’d had: confusion, fear, guilt, heartbreak, acceptance. Some had the unwavering knowledge that besides all that, it was the right thing, and others were never sure if they’d made the right choice or not.
In the two years of going to that group, she only met one other who’d given her child up to her own parents, but it was when the kid was older, and knew who its biological mother was.
But many saw their kid as much as once a month. Open adoption had changed; the world was changing. And it was a positive, it was, to see Laura and know she was thriving. To be able to know her as a person, to help her when she’d needed it. Unbidden, Tilly rested her hand on her stomach, running her fingers over the scattering of four, minute scars from the transplant.
She’d been lucky.
But some nights, especially the first year, when she was guilty and confused and filled with regret, her face buried in her pillow while her parents soothed the crying baby, she hadn’t felt so lucky.
Right now, though, in this room, watching Laura chatter to Evie, watching her dad tug at the blanket to make it sit straight and her mum go for more water, Tilly did feel lucky.
Everything came around in circles, and she wondered if the guilt for failing her biological daughter would ever leave her completely. She’d not wanted to share the guilt, cradling it close as if it were beloved. It was a way to punish herself, as if she didn’t deserve to live without it.
Letting that go felt impossible.
Evie leaned back deep in her chair, her hand rubbing low over her belly, and her gaze flicked to Tilly, who threw her a wink before turning her attention back to Laura.
Letting herself want what she and Evie were teetering near felt impossible.
How did she deserve to raise another baby when she’d given one up?
How did she even think about it?
“You really have to go?” Laura asked Evie.
Evie stood up. “I do; my flight’s in a few hours. I have to get back to work tomorrow.”
At the age where anyone except her own family was cool, Laura pouted. “Too bad, you make my lame sister less lame.”
“Hey!” Tilly threw the cow teddy bear she’d been nursing, a gift from their grandmother, at her. Laura caught it easily, their mother tutting at making Laura move. “I’ve always been cool.”
“Oh, yes. So cool. That’s why this is the first time you’ve thought to bring me something as cool as a tablet with the newest series already downloaded.” Laura waved the tablet in her hand.
“I didn’t want to spoil you,” Tilly said weakly.
Laura snorted, as did Evie.
This was far too weird.
“Come on, admit it,” Evie said, eyes on Tilly, a smirk on her lips. “I’m hip with the kids and you’re not.”
Laura sucked in a breath, wincing. “Ooh. So close. So close, Evie.”
“What?” Evie spun her head around to look at Laura. “What’d I do?”
“No one says hip anymore.”
Evie looked at Tilly, then Tilly’s parents, then back to Laura, looking for backup and finding none. “They don’t?”
“Nope,” Tilly said, far too smug. She could feel the smugness on her own face now. “Who’s lame now?”
“All of you,” Laura said, full of far too much cheek. “Sorry Evie, cool points lost. You may go.” She waved her hand like a queen dismissing a peasant. “Take your leave.”
“Yes, your majesty.” Evie put both hands on the armrests of her uncomfortable hospital plastic chair and pushed herself up. “I only ask that you don’t deem it right to take my head.”
“Hm.” Laura lifted her chin, as if surveying something that smelt bad. “I wouldn’t wish to soil an axe. Be gone from my sight.” The smile crawled onto her lips. “But really, it was great meeting you. The mysterious sister does actually have friends.” Laura leaned forward, holding a hand up as if whispering a secret to Evie that Tilly shouldn’t hear, but spoke in a stage whisper. “We all worry about it, she’s clearly the awkward one of the family.”
Evie grinned, mimicking Laura and leaning forward too. “Don’t worry, your mum pays us well to keep being friends with her.”
“You deserve a raise, if you ask me,” Tilly’s dad added.
“Okay!” Tilly threw her hands up, looking around at the four people with twinkling eyes. Apparently, making fun of Tilly brought everyone together. How quaint. “You’re gonna miss your flight. Let’s go.”
Evie gave Laura the most awkward hug in the world, which involved leaning forward as much as she could with her belly and one arm while the other hand rested on the bed to try and keep herself from collapsing entirely. She gave Tilly’s parents a quick hug on her way out, everyone said their final goodbyes and then they were finally on their way to the car Tilly’s parents were so generously lending her.
“She’s funny,” Evie said thoughtfully.
“She is. She’s got a good sense of humour. She’s smart, too.” Tilly twirled the keys around on her finger.
“Like you,” Evie said.
Tilly side-eyed her, unable to stop the smile on her lips. “She’s smarter than me.”
“Most are, to be fair.”
“Hey!”
* * *
When Evie had first arrived, Tilly had wanted to run out of her own skin. It had been far too much of a clash of too many of her worlds. But now, she didn’t want her to go. Evie had been so gentle with her, so understanding. Even after that conversation in her hotel room, she still managed to be, well, Evie. She still had questions, Tilly could tell, but was sitting on them. She’d always been more patient than Tilly, able to bide her time, able to wait.
Their friendship was proof of all that.
“When I get back, we’ll talk more,” Tilly said as they stood right outside security at the airport, delaying the moment Evie would have to walk through.
Evie’s hand rested on the handle of her carry-on. “Yeah, we will.”
They stood close, but not too close. A hand’s span between them, if not more. People flowed around them, dragging their suitcases along. A soothing voice over the speaker requested they not leave bags unattended. The airport was lit up in fluorescence, the light so manufactured it could be four p.m. or it could be four a.m.
And Evie, engulfed by it all, so close Tilly could swear she could feel her heat. She was watching Tilly, head cocked in that thoughtful way of hers. “What is it?” Evie asked, her low voice almost whipped away by the bustle of the airport.
Tilly swallowed, the lump in her throat appearing from nowhere. “I’m not used to you leaving me behind.”
“I’m not used to leaving you.” Evie smiled.
“What?” Tilly asked. There was something in that smile she didn’t understand.
Evie stepped a little closer, hand still on the handle of her case. “I just thought something similar when you moved out. But also, so different.”
Tilly nodded like she got it, but wasn’t sure she did. “We have a lot to figure out, don’t we?”
“We do.”
But Evie wasn’t concerned, or sad, or angry. She was simply presenting a fact: it was what it was. “But at least I’m not going to have to have a long conversation with Sean.”
Tilly’s eyes went wide as the thought truly hit her for the first time, even after the phone conversation. This thing with Evie and her, working through it all for the first time, had taken the forefront of her mind, but Sean? “I have to tell him.”
Evie smirked. “Yup.”
Tilly pouted. “Can’t you do it?”
With a cackle, Evie closed the gap and threw an arm around Tilly, pulling her in for a hug. Tilly gripped her back, turning her head to press her face into Evie’s hair.
“Nope. That’s all for you,” she whispered in Tilly’s ear, somewhat gleeful.
She pressed a kiss to Tilly’s cheek, leaving behind a burning imprint of it, and pulled away to walk through security. She was stopped at the doors, the guy there looking at her boarding pass, and she turned, waving at Tilly. She blew a kiss.
“Be good!” Evie called.
Tilly laughed, wrapping her arms around herself as Evie walked through the doors. She turned to go.
Tilly really didn’t want Evie to leave. Tilly had several more days, and she was glad to stay. To see Laura, her parents. Laura was out the other side of the transplant, all signs good. Tilly would be able to keep her company at the hospital tomorrow when her mum and dad had to go back to work. Tilly would sneak her in food she shouldn’t really eat, and they would keep building the tentative relationship Tilly had finally let them start on just a few years back.
But Tilly wanted Evie there. To share it with her.
There was a tugging on her arm, turning her around.
“Evie?”
And then Evie’s hands were on her cheeks, cupping them, her eyes bright and wide and inches from her own. Her gaze darted to Tilly’s lips and Tilly gulped, frozen, before Evie leaned in, their lips almost brushing. Evie didn’t close the gap, and Tilly knew then.
Evie wanted Tilly to meet her halfway.
So she did.
Eyes fluttering closed, she pressed forward, arms wrapped around Evie’s waist, her belly pressing into Tilly’s. Her lips were soft, pliant, warm. It was such a different kiss to the one in the kitchen. The need was still there, the fire still licking in Tilly’s stomach.
But it could even be called familiar, comfortable.
Everything Tilly craved and then some.
Evie’s lips parted and her tongue gently flicked at Tilly’s lips, so Tilly met her halfway there, too.
And then her lips were moving away, her breath washing over Tilly’s instead, their foreheads pressed together.
Tilly couldn’t have stopped the smile on her face if she’d tried, and when she partly opened her eyes, she could see Evie was grinning.
“We still have a lot to talk about,” Evie said.
“We do. And we will.”
Evie tilted her chin, pressing a kiss to her lips again and Tilly thought they must look ridiculous, smiling into kisses and making them messy and uncoordinated. Yet it felt like every kiss in the world should: a burst of happiness.
And Evie turned around again, fingers trailing down Tilly’s arm to squeeze her fingers before letting go, grinning at her over her shoulder as she went back to the door to security, the guard glaring at her.
Tilly could only grin and stand there. When she was finally sure Evie wasn’t going to come running back out the doors, Tilly walked back to the car. Even the ridiculously overpriced cost of parking couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
* * *
Four days later, Tilly sat in the passenger seat of the same car as her mum drove her to the airport. Leaving felt good, since she was going back to where she was meant to be. But leaving always felt wrong, too, as if she were leaving too much behind. That feeling had got worse over the years. Now that she’d started to let her family back in, she discovered how much she’d missed the connection. Missed the people who knew her, who looked after her. Who did everything they could to help her.
Her parents hadn’t wanted more kids, Tilly knew that. They’d planned on one. But they’d taken Laura, and raised her in a house full of support and stability and love, without even a second thought. They’d done everything for Tilly, too. Provided therapy, persisted in approaching her when she’d run.
“Mum,” Tilly said.
“Mm?” her mum responded. She was grey, now. Not completely, but there were long, thick streaks of it in her dark hair. Bits of it escaped her braid, brushing against her face. “What’s up? Did you forget something?” Her mother glanced at her before looking back to the freeway, going too fast to look away for long.
“No.” Tilly shook her head even though her mother wasn’t looking at her. “Nothing like that. I wanted to…say thank you.”
She could see, even in profile, her mum’s brow furrowing. “For driving you to the airport?”
“No,” Tilly said with an almost laugh. “For, well, everything. For all your help, with everything. I know—I know none of it was easy for you and dad.”
On the steering wheel, her mum’s fingers flexed, tightening then relaxing. “What wasn’t easy was watching what you were going through.”
It was so honest that Tilly stopped breathing. She’d felt, deep down, that surely her parents resented her, a little. Something in them had to be angry with her, or saddened by her. But here was her mum, still only concerned about her.
“I’m okay.” Tilly tilted her chin up.
“Now,” her mum said, the smile on her lips sad. “But that’s taken a long, long time. I appreciate your thanks, sweet.” That old endearment was like honey for a sore throat. “But I just want all my girls okay. Same as your dad.”
“How can—” Tilly’s voice broke, and her mum’s hand came out to rest on her leg. “How can you not be mad, even a little. I ran away. And abandoned my kid with you. I—”
“You did no such thing. There was no abandonment. You made sure your child had what she needed. And at sixteen, your decision showed maturity.” Her mum’s hand squeezed. “And I wish you’d not pulled away from us. Believe me, it’s the last thing I wanted. But I can see why you did. I can’t imagine how hard everything was, as much as I wish I could understand it, and you, and everything you went through.” Her mum put her hand back on the steering wheel as she took the airport exit and headed to the car park.
“But still,” Tilly said. “Thank you. For getting me the psychologist, and the group of other parents who’d given their kids up. And for, well, everything.”
Her mum found a parking spot and pulled into it, cutting the engine. She unclipped her seatbelt and leaned over, pulling Tilly into an uncomfortable, yet remarkably soothing hug. “You’re welcome,” she breathed. “Now you treat yourself and that Evie right. Don’t let everything from your past define what’s to come, okay?”
And Tilly, her arms coming up around her mother, collapsed entirely into the hug, and let her mother hold them both up.
Tilly walked out the arrivals gate in Perth and her phone buzzed in her hand. It was a message from Evie:
Sorry
What was that supposed to mean? She glanced around at the crowd of people, unable to see Evie. Maybe she wasn’t able to pick up Tilly as she’d said she would? They’d barely messaged the last few days, giving each other some space since the utter emotion and information dump that had been Melbourne.
Then she spotted Sean, who was grinning like a shark.
Now the message made sense.
She walked towards him, unable to keep the smile off her face in spite of herself.
He pulled her into a hug. “Hello, stranger,” he said.
She squeezed him tighter. “Hey, you.”
They stood for a moment, arms tight around each other, before finally separating.
“I was expecting Evie,” Tilly said, trying to supress her exasperated smile.
“I know you were. I threatened to get her mum on the topic of sex next lunch if she didn’t give me your flight details and let me pick you up.”
He looked so impressed with himself, Tilly had to laugh. “I’m just that popular?”
He led the way out to the front doors of arrivals and straight to a parking machine. Airports were making a fortune off her this week.
“Sure, you’re that popular. Nothing to do with getting the feeling I’ve missed something.”
“I’m sure.”
The machine sucked in the parking ticket Sean held up to it and the price flashed on the screen. Tilly shoved a twenty into his hand. He scoffed, and pushed it back. She tried to slip it into the slot for notes, and he elbowed her out the way, using all his strength to hold her to the side as he tried to line up his own note to the machine. Tilly reached forward and slapped his hand away and managed to get hers in, the machine pulling it in greedily.
“Ha!” she crowed.
“Asshole,” he muttered, lips quirked up.
She took her minimal change and held out the ticket they’d need to exit the car park. “I won.”
He plucked the ticket from between her fingers and somehow managed to crumple in his own twenty-dollar note in her hand in a swap. His eyes lit up. “Nope, I did!” And he bolted away, walking too fast for her to immediately reach him.
Tilly hurried after him, hiking her carry-on bag further up her shoulder. “That was playing dirty,” she said when she finally caught up, having to dart around the giant line of white taxis.
“Oh my God, how? I won, fair and square.” Sean shrugged as he waited for a car to slowly go past, owner bent over the steering wheel, peering out. Probably trawling for a park close by. “You snooze, you lose.”
She darted her hand forward and jammed the twenty into his back pocket. “Ha! Again!” And she ran off.
“You have no idea where I’m parked!”
She slowed and turned around, keeping distance between them as she tried to follow him while being in front. “Damn it.”
It all culminated at the boot of his car, where he’d managed to shove it down her shirt. She pulled it out and held it out to him as he rested his hand high up on the open boot door, eyebrows raised.
“Take it.”
“No.”
She eyed him, then let the note flutter to the ground. “Fine.”
And she turned and walked around to the passenger side.
She heard him swear, and snickered to herself. The boot door slammed shut and he sat in the driver’s seat a moment later.
“Fine, you win,” he said, grinning as he started the car.
She raised her hand up. “Victory!”
“Whatever.”
“Oh, don’t be a sore loser. It’s not your fault I’m superior.”
“You mean the most stubborn?”
“Exactly.”
They wove their way out of the car park, this airport smaller than Melbourne’s, and eventually made it onto the freeway.
“So,” he said.
Tilly swallowed. “So.”
It was after ten p.m. and the freeway was mostly empty, the streetlamps lighting the car in washed-out orange hues.
“Why’re we going through the city?” she asked.
“I wanted to park over one of the beaches. Figured you needed to really see the ocean. Port Phillip Bay is a sad excuse for one.”
Tilly laughed softly. “It’s at least forty minutes to my place after that.”
“Wanna crash at mine and Cal’s after?”
She wanted to see Evie. Every particle in her wanted to see Evie. But it was late, and the last time she’d seen her they’d kissed, and they’d end up in the same bed. And as amazing as that sounded, it also felt…too soon. Which was ridiculous considering that she and Evie had shared beds since forever.
“That sounds great,” said Tilly.
“Good.” He cleared his throat. “So.”
She laughed loudly and he grinned as he kept his eyes on the road. “So?”
“You went to Melbourne but took Evie with you. That’s new.”
“Well, in my defence, she kind of invited herself.”
He snorted. “Of course she did. But the point remains that she knew where you were going and when, and when you’d be back, and was able to stalk you to the other side of the country.”
“She was, yes.”
There was a second of silence. “Thanks. For doing that. Finally.”
“I feel like ‘thanks’ is awfully big of you.”
He shrugged. “I’m a generous person.”
She smiled. “You’re being sarcastic, but you actually are.”
“Don’t you try to turn this around with flattery, because it will work.”
She bit her lip to push down another laugh. “Fine. But you don’t have to thank me, for that.”
“I guess I don’t mean in a big sweeping appreciative way. But more in a, I-appreciate-that-it-was-a-sign-from-you-that-things-are-going-to-be-different way, and that you’re trying. And that deserves a thanks. Or at least, a nod.” He gave an exaggerated bob of his head.
Tilly’s usual response would be to roll her eyes and mock them both, which would have been easier. But this development between them was too real, and she didn’t want to fracture it. “I want to change some things.”
“I’m starting to see that.”
And they drove in silence until he wove around a quieter street and parked where they could see the ocean. It lay just beyond the steep steps in front of them that led down to one of the city’s beaches. The sandy shore was hidden from them this high up, although they could hear the crash of the waves upon the dunes.
Sean unclipped his seatbelt and settled back a little. “So,” he said with a smile.
“So,” Tilly said, without one. Or, at least, with a much softer one.
The whole story came out, more ordered than with Evie, as if Tilly’s brain had started processing it now. Looking at him was too difficult, as it had been with Evie. Tilly only met his eyes part of the time. She otherwise watched the moon on the water, the ocean expansive and wide before them, waves rolling across its surface in a way that seemed almost lazy.
The words fell out of her and Sean did nothing but let her speak, even if she stumbled over her words. Which she did less than she’d thought she would.
Maybe each time would be easier, until she could talk about this without feeling as if she were unplugging a gaping wound in her heart, one that sucked away any happiness and left her with nothing but guilt and confusion. Maybe eventually this could exist as solely something from her past and no longer defining her entire being, something that painted her.
It was so hard, to sum all this up, because while it had been a shameful secret she’d locked down deep within her, she also knew, undoubtedly, that she’d made the right choice, for Laura, for herself.
Mostly for Laura.
Not for one minute did she wish she’d not done it.
And that was a complicated mix of emotions to explain to someone. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure how she herself felt about it all.
Sean took it in more simply than Evie. He leaned in. He asked a few questions. And when silence fell down on them, so quiet it was loud, Tilly swallowed and stared down at her hands, clasped in her lap.
And then he leaned over, wrapping his arms around her, much like her mother had hours before, and she brought her hands up, wrapping them around his forearm.
“You’re such an idiot, Tilly,” he said, affectionately. “But an idiot I understand a lot more now.”
And she hiccoughed a sob and turned into his hug.
An hour later, they were driving to Cal and Sean’s flat in comfortable silence. They entered a mostly dark flat, Cal long ago asleep. Tilly and Sean said goodnight and Tilly stood in the lounge room, the sofa bed all made up ready for her. On top of her pillow was a note from Cal:
Always a bed here for you x
She definitely did not choke up a little at the gesture.
Tilly dumped her bag on the bed and zipped it open.
A crumpled twenty-dollar note was squished in there. She gave a delighted laugh, plucking it out. With a glance around the room, she chose her spot, and slipped it under the TV remote, folded up, so Sean wouldn’t find it until he used it.
When she crawled under the sheets, she checked her phone, a message from Evie on it:
Hope that went well, see you tomorrow xx
PS: Sean says don’t you dare put that 20 somewhere