And I love the way that sounds. We throw the word ‘bitch’ around in a way we shouldn’t. I’m always directing her back to the shit, the cheese, the rubbish, to avoid my looming apology sticking out like darts in my face. The opposite of acupuncture. I know it wants attention and I know it hurts but Taylor, this shit, this cheese, this rubbish, it’s all so important is it not? So pressing, so urgent, so ‘like the other girls’.
Oh I can’t look at her. I fawn over pictures of her cats and ask after her family and lean in on dramatic cues but I know she’s bouncing her leg and talking in time with the clock. She knows and I know, but good apologies take time, do they not? If I take another sip of my tea my mouth will be full and I can’t help that. And if I finish a fifth biscuit then I’ll need more tea to wash it out of my teeth and my mouth will be full again. My mug keeps refilling even though I need a wee and I know what I’m here to say.
But the shit keeps flowing, and who am I to be a party pooper? With every sip of tea, am I spitting on a woman? Is that what Taylor keeps wiping off her face- my anti-feminist spit? Either way, she’s doing a great job of staying engaged in my shit, my cheese and I ask her to do it again next week but it is next week and it’s been next week since I was thirteen and Taylor doesn’t deserve my unnecessary hatred and actually neither do I.
I’m sorry, I ache to say, I hated you because they told me to, because wasn’t being a girl synonymous with being a monster? Surely you know better than anyone? Forgive me –
I tell her I’ll bring my own flask of tea next week, no more refills for me. She laughs. She won’t hold her breath.
Robyn Hill is a lesbian poet and screenwriter from the UK. Her writing features themes such as nostalgia, sexuality, the world ending, all that good stuff (and cats). Through her work, she aims to document a range of queer stories whilst increasing the representation of LGBTQ+ writers across all forms. You can find her on Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube @robyynnhill.