This Still Happens

Chapter Two - Sin: Gordon

I fetch a blanket from my tent and wrap it around Sophie's shoulders as she sits down on a log by the fire-circle. "Are you OK?" I ask, stroking her hair as she leans on me. The steam rising from her cup of tea—sweet char, made by sweet Char—lays a white fog over the lenses of my glasses, and I pull them off so that I can at least see her, even if she's blurry.

Even without my glasses on, I can see that she's crying. She shakes her head, and her skinny plait swings against her neck, flame-gold tip catching the sunlight. "Doesn't matter if I'm OK," she mumbles, "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, though... honestly? It's not entirely true. It's just not enough of a lie that I need to upset her more by telling her so. "Is Chris still... Is he still your—" I swallow hard, and lower my voice so that the others, standing around us, don't overhear. "Are you still together?"

Soph shrugs heavily. "I have no clue," she mutters, sipping her tea and chewing her lip hard. "Do you want us to still be together?"

"Not up to me, dolly." I rub her arm, and cuddle her close. "It's your relationship. I'm not going to tell you how it should be."

"But I..." Soph shakes her head. "I feel like... our friendship is more important than that, and... and... if that's the case, then I shouldn't... stay with Chris... if he feels that way about you. You're my friend, Gordon. You've always been my friend."

"Chris is my friend, too," I remind her, "Sometimes people react to things in weird ways, and all it is... is that they just need time to process what they've learned. That's probably all it is. In a day or so, or maybe even in a week or so, he'll realise he's being silly. Maybe he'll even apologise. But I don't mind, either way. I know he didn't mean what he said."

With a nod, Sophie snuggles into my side. "You're probably right," she says, "I just wish this wasn't happening at my birthday party. I kind of feel like it's my fault."

I tap the tip of her nose with my finger. "Oi, no. No. This wasn't your fault. It was Chris' fault. And maybe mine, too." I frown. "I just kind of assumed people already knew. I mean, my parents definitely don't, but, then again, we don't talk about that kind of stuff in my house... so... but nobody knew?" I sit up, arm still around Sophie, and look at the others. "None of you? Really?" I shake my head. "Sorry. It's just... I thought it was really obvious."

"You're always so cagey about who you fancy, mate," Tim says, "I kind of assumed you were just private... and, as Char says, flamboyant. Didn't want to make any other assumptions, you know?"

"Fair, fair." I wrinkle my nose. "Sorry about my timing. That's definitely on me."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Once everything's packed up from the party, the field looks sad, empty, lonely. I guess there's only one way to fix that: make it a promise that we'll come back at some point for another bash. Hopefully next time without any massive fights.

Poor Soph.

Lena helps her pack her bag and her bedding roll, and then they carry their belongings home. They live next door to each other, always have. Quite sweet, actually, how they look after each other. I remember one time when Lena was off school with a bout of flu, Sophie made her a vat of chicken soup, and sat with her, reading to her and feeding her nourishing snacks, every evening until she was better. That's just how they are, I guess. Kind of wish I had someone like that.

I say goodbye to the others, and then I'm gone, too, back to my house, back to my room, where I take out my guitar and sit on my windowsill, staring out up the street at the hills.

Char and Etta get back a few minutes after I settle in, Etta dipping into her house a few away from mine, and Char trailing alone up the street to her own.