Hiding Anna [rewritten]

Chapter Thirty-Six: Playful Apologies

My feet were cold as we walked through the somber field. A dirt path cut through the rapeseed shoots and I tried to stay close to George without touching him.

"Sometimes I feel like I know you like the back of my hand and then sometimes I feel like I want to get to know you all over again."

My voice was small and I felt ashamed for admitting that I longed for the times when we weren't in a relationship.

It wasn't the relationship that was the problem. It was my depression, it was school stress, it was falling into a routine where getting through the day without collapsing was more important than enjoying it. 

"Let's get to know each other." He replied softly, turning around and walking backwards as I continued forwards. "But without any previous context. Like trying to listen to what we're telling each other but without analysing it against everything we already know about each other."

The way he worded it sounded more complicated than what he meant. He meant let's talk like we'd never talked before.

"Okay." I agreed, smiling gently as he encouraged me to take his hand.

His palm was warm against mine and a familiar, but still enticing, heat erupted throughout my limbs at the proximity to him.

"I'll start. What did you like about the A Levels you picked to study?"

Back to the old sciences versus humanities game.

I rolled my eyes but concentrated on ignoring previous contexts of this similar conversation.

"I like how the answers are clear cut. I like knowing why things work and why things don't. For some reason it works with my brain better. And I suck at essays."

"I don't believe that! I bet you still did well at GCSE."

"I did... but I didn't enjoy it. Maybe I just didn't understand it."

"I think the answer is that they chose shitty books for the syllabus." George chuckled and pulled me close to him so our shoulders brushed together.

In the slowly darkening evening the fields felt desolate and it comforted me.

"Okay my turn. What was your favourite thing about your childhood?" I fired back.

George stilled a little and sighed.

"When I saw my dad." He told me, avoiding my curious gaze. "The way my parents raised me... separate from my sisters for most of the year... it was kind of bizarre. They did it because they loved England, they wanted to raise me bilingual, and they preferred the university system here. But Dad was never going to be able to find a job easily in England so this compromise was made. Yes, they have an open marriage, but that was just a minor thing. And it meant that most of my childhood was spent very lonely."

I held his hand and squeezed. "Your mum once told me that."

"What did we say about previous context?" He smirked. I could only see his expression faintly in the blackening distance.

"Sorry." I giggled, but agreed that it would be best to hear this side of George's story from his point of view.

"I love my mum. She gave me an extremely happy childhood, and in some ways I feel very blessed to have had her raise me by herself. I think the way I view life and gender and women in the way I do is all because of the her."

I pursed my lips. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean that I always felt uncomfortable when other guys talked down about girls or objectified them. And I never felt like I should take part in it because to me my mother was the most hard working and loving person and I would never have wanted anyone to talk to her the way the guys talked about other girls." He explained but seemed to struggle finding the words. "I'm not saying I'm a saint or anything like that. It's just I feel like my mother showed me what being a man was really about - respect - in a way that many fathers don't do with their sons."