“Just as well I have something to keep you occupied,” I’d said and then I’d presented him with the toy.
“Please, Mina,” Charlie’s voice interrupts my recollection of just an hour or so ago. “Please switch it off for now.”
When I see him tugging on the bottom of his suit jacket and another bead of sweat on the other side of his forehead, I open the app and switch it off.
“Thank fuck.” Charlie sighs and straightens up.
I smile and hold out my hand to him. “Don’t get comfortable,” I warn him. “I still have control.”
“Don’t I know it,” he says with an unmissable shudder and an equally noticeable sly smile before taking my hand and walking up the remaining steps.
*****
The wedding is a huge success. It’s everything my sister would want, and everything I would hate. Her dress is big and white, her hair is piled up on top of her head, and her make-up is flawlessly natural. Her smile doesn’t slip all day and she meets and greets guests with a grace only my sister possesses. The henna on her hands and forearms that I did two nights ago is a more extravagant version of the design on my mother’s hands and arms, and when Aisha asked that some of the details be the same as the permanent tattoos I have on my wrists, I had to swallow down my tears.
As it happens, Nick is the first to cry which happens as soon as he sees Aisha walk down the short aisle in the registry office. But that only seems to open the floodgates for the rest of us as we all sniffle our way through their vows and the registrant’s parts. Even Charlie pulls a tissue out of his pocket and wipes at his eyes, and the cruel woman inside me thinks about turning the toy back on, but I don’t. Because I want to focus on my sister enjoying what I’m pretty sure will be the happiest day of her life.
I always assumed I’d never get married. I’d certainly never imagined I’d get married to a white man, nor that I would ever come close to wanting to. And I’m not saying Idowant to marry Charlie, but I have to at least admit that I’m open to the possibility. I’ve had to open my mind to a lot of things since Charlie and I first waltzed together at his mother’s birthday party, not least the possibility that we could work as a couple, as lovers, as partners.
And yet we do work.
We live together now. I only moved in a month ago, after my hot water broke for the fourth time in less than a year and I realised I had more of my clothes and belongings at Charlie’s place than I did at my own. Because of the near-constant cold showers and his inability to fix it for good, my landlord let me break my contract early and Charlie rented a van to move my remaining belongings one Saturday while I did my usual Saturday apprenticeship at Violet’s Tattoo Studio in Camden.
I’m coming up on nearly six months working there at weekends and while it’s exhausting working a six-day week, especially when work at HNO is busy and in my new role as Creative Director I have to keep an eye on all our campaigns, I live for my Saturdays in the studio. The studio owner Violet herself is my mentor and I’m the first apprentice she’s taken on in nearly ten years. The only reason she did is because I came recommended by her friend and fellow tattoo studio owner Keeley Grant whose wife is one of Charlie’s mum’s clients. Yes, unbelievably but so very gratefully, Charlie’s mother helped me get my tattoo apprenticeship.
I expect to work like this for another six months before I ask HNO if I can drop my hours to a three- or four-day work week. If they refuse, I will have enough money saved that I will walk away with my head held high and will take as many hours as Violet can give me in her studio. Even with all the years I dreamed about being a tattoo artist, it still doesn’t compare to the buzz I get inking somebody’s skin. Whether it’s their first or their hundredth, I find peace in creating art on someone’s body and having them smile at me when they see their new tattoo for the first time.
I’ve done a few tattoos on myself since I started my apprenticeship, including a tattoo gun on my upper thigh. I often find Charlie stroking it after we make love and it reminds me to keep following my dreams.
Charlie also reminds me to do this every single day by doing exactly the same thing for himself.
He is halfway through his summer training and he will start on-the-job teacher training in early September. His excitement for this next chapter in his life is infectious and I can’t wait to see how he is once he’s actually teaching. Of course, it will be hard. Of course, there will be challenging days, exhausting days but we will navigate them together.
We’re not afraid of hard work. We’re not afraid of bad days. We’re afraid of missing out on chasing our dreams because of fear or self-doubt or other people’s opinions. Or because of my chronic illness.
Because I haven’t been attack free. I doubt I ever will be, but the episodes I’ve had have been easier to navigate for two reasons. Firstly, because Charlie looks after me. He’s there to help me however I need it. Sometimes, that’s been ensuring I have my medication and cold compress wrap, pulling my curtains closed, filling my fridge with food and then leaving me alone for twenty-four hours. Other times I’ve surprised myself by wanting him to stay close, so I know that when I do feel well enough, I can crawl into his arms and focus on the steady beat of his heart in order to think about something other than the pain. And once, I even let him carry me to the bathroom and hold my hair back from my face as I vomited without respite for half an hour. And yes, he cleaned the bathroom afterwards.
The other reason my migraine episodes and day-to-day symptoms have felt more manageable is because I finally told work about them. In a meeting that turned my stomach inside out with nausea and nerves, I explained their severity and their unpredictability and I was astounded by the compassion and care I was shown. Now, it’s not unusual to see me at my desk wearing my migraine glasses and I feel no shame or embarrassment when I wear my CEFALY device that applies a mild electrical current to my trigeminal nerve. Now, all I have to do is send a one-word email to the HR inbox and they know I am not available for at least twenty-four hours, likely longer. I also have systems in place where my team always have visibility on current projects’ workflow and Garrett has even picked up some slack when I had to miss a client meeting due to an attack a few months ago.
Even before Charlie, I’d worked hard to not let migraine disease define who I am or what I’m capable of, and so I still credit myself with how well I deal with my chronic illness, but I cannot deny how fucking nice it is to have someone by your side when you feel like your own body and brain are trying to kill you. Someone to remind you that it will pass. Someone to hold your hand. Someone to whisper they love you when any noise louder than that will slice through your skull.
Because Charlie does love me. Charlie loves me like he does everything. With a bounce in his step. With a never-ending smile on his face. And with all the energy he can possibly muster.
I am reminded of this now as Charlie takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. We are in the courtyard of the Clapham Manor House, one of the venues belonging to our client, Status, who graciously secured a small discount for my sister and Nick. The dinner and speeches are done with more tears and sniffles, Nick and Aisha have just had their first dance, and both the bride and bridegrooms’ parents joined them towards the end. Now a different song is playing and as I listen to the beat, I catch Charlie’s eye. He winks at me and then we assume our position for a waltz.
Charlie
There have been too many highlights of our relationship for me to count, but one that can’t help but stand out is us getting ballroom dancing lessons together. We’re far from perfect, but now we really can waltz. And waltz we do.
Dancing with Mina never felt awkward, not even that first time when we waltzed to Kate Bush at Mum’s birthday, but now it feels more natural than ever. The way my hand finds hers. The way her back arches into my touch. The way we start with a slow travelling box step until I wink at Mina and she nods back at me. The way she holds her head to the side, and the way I lead us in a steady progressive across the tiled dance area. The way we stumble through our first change step but make it smoothly through the subsequent ones. The way we earn a few cheers when we do a series of open rolls. The way we catch each other’s eye and smile knowingly at each other before I lean over and lower Mina in a dip.
The music ends too soon for me, and I’m eager to keep going but Mina doesn’t follow my lead.
“I need the toilet and a drink,” Mina says as she stretches up on her toes and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Find you back at the bar?”
“Sure,” I say, holding her close to me so I can give her another kiss.
As Mina steps inside and heads to the Ladies, I walk to the bar that’s in front of a live wall of plants at the rear of the courtyard planning on getting Mina a drink and a glass of wine for myself. Much to my surprise, Nick and Aisha are standing at the bar sharing an embrace. Much to my greater surprise, they’re not surrounded by other guests like they have been for most of the day and evening.
