I shake as every bit of adrenaline that’s been storing up in my body sets fire to itself at once. I feel like I could run up a wall, but in a bad way.
She’s not going to out me.
‘Fuck,’ I manage to whisper as the feeling subsides.
‘Carys, what happened? What did that text mean?’ Ang whispers.
‘Do I need to go punch this girl? I will! I’m ready to fight anyone!’ shouts Del.
‘Del, shush. Mum will hear.’
‘Guys. I fell for Dolly.’
I burst into tears, and both Ang and Del pull me against them, so I feel a little like the Barbie they used to love so much they fought, but in a good way.
‘Oh honey,’ whispers Ang.
‘She is very hot,’ says Del, nodding sagely. I look up at her, wondering if that’s something I’ve missed the whole time too. ‘Oh, I don’t like girls. I can admire a nice painting, you know?’
‘I like her alotmore than a painting,’ I cry.
‘Where’s this all coming from, Carys?’ Ang asks. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean that I don’t believe you, just what happened to make you realise?’
‘OnWedded Blissof all places,’ murmurs Del.
And so I explain the ways that I’ve been masking, beyond what even they understand. Hiding myself, hiding my queerness (I’m pretty sure that’s a word I can use?), as well as myautism. How so much of it is interlinked and that I’ve been hiding it from myself for so long that I forgot who I was, until Dolly reminded me.
‘I just feel like maybe I’ve been contorting myself this whole time to get attention from men, and that’s changed who I could be too. Like I masked all the way into a different straight girl. God, that sounds so pathetic.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Del says seriously. ‘This fucking culture constantly tells us that that’s all that matters. Of course you’d get tangled up.’
‘But I’m such a fraud.’
‘Baby, male attention is the freest currency in the whole world,’ Ang says, stroking my hair. ‘When I feel a bit shit, I post a slightly titty pic, because I know the strange men who follow me online will tell me I’m beautiful. You’re not a bad person for wanting that.’
‘Caz, you’ve had it so fucking hard for so long that you need to give yourself a break for being human.’ Del pushes a strand of hair away from my nose and it comes free slick with snot. To her credit, she barely reacts. ‘I’m really proud of you for telling us. Do you have a word you like?’
I sniff. ‘I think bisexual is right.’
‘Well, you go at your own pace. I’m glad this Bridget dickhead didn’t blow that for you.’
‘There’s just so much to unpack,’ I whisper. ‘Like how I dress.’
Ang tilts her head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I am fed up of dresses!’ I suddenly wail. ‘I hate wearing tights because they always roll down. There are no tights on earth that are the right size!’
My sisters, bless them, nod along like I’m being entirely reasonable.
‘And underwires? Why do I have to hoist my boobs up withmetal? And don’t even get me started on shaving. There’s so much shaving!’
I run out of things to be angry about and deflate suddenly like a sad whoopee cushion.
‘You always were a shorts and t shirts and backwards baseball cap kinda kid. We just thought puberty changed you, or something,’ Del says.
‘I think,’ I say slowly, trying to gather my thoughts as I speak, ‘it’s part of the masking, but I think I’ve been dressing for the men-attracting half of me, and maybe in doing that, I’ve lost the rest of me.’
My sisters nod like I’m talking sense. I can’t tell if I am.
