Chapter Thirty-Six Carys
Transcript of a video from Reality TV content creator @missgoss
Possible breaking news, Blissfuls. I just got wind that one of the final five couples cancelled their wedding venue. Do we have an elopement, a breakup, or a secret third thing on the cards?
I hated sleeping alone so much I made my sisters come share my king-size bed with me. It’s not like it’s the last night I’ll spend in a bed on my own – Patrick and I are going to have to do long distance for a while yet.
If I say yes.
I wake up when the birds sing. Out in the countryside, the dawn chorus actually happens at dawn, rather than at night when there’s less traffic like in the city.
But, with the lull of sleep nipping at my heels and the exhaustion of the last few weeks deep in my bones, I fall back asleep, nestled between my sisters.
We wake to a knock at the door as the hair and makeup team arrive to get us prepped. They seem pretty narked that we’re not showered yet, so I jump in while my sisters wash in their own room.
Our wedding ceremony starts at midday, so I have a while to eat a croissant and neck an espresso brought up by room service. The coffee is so strong I could stand a spoon in it, and it burns through my veins.
Probably not the best choice because I become deeply aware of the possibility I might need to fart, as the makeup lady does my brows.
My sisters come back in just as the hairdresser begins styling my long hair into soft waterfalling curls.
‘Can we put some music on? Let’s get in the mood,’ Ang says.
‘I did make a playlist for the occasion,’ says Del.
Ang sighs, and sits down on the end of the bed. ‘I am not listening to “2 Become 1” by the Spice Girls on repeat for three hours, no matter how much effort you put into adding it a million times.’
‘Spoilsport. Caz, do you have something you want to listen to? Bride gets to be DJ.’
I pick up my phone to open my music app, and see a text from Bridget.
‘Carys?’ Ang asks.
‘What?’ I startle, knocking the hairdresser so that the hot curling iron burns the back of my ear. ‘Ow fuck. Sorry! Oh shitting hell.’
The nice hairdresser gets a cool flannel and presses it against my ear.
‘Why were you staring at your phone like that?’ asks Del quietly.
I thrust the phone into her hand. ‘Can you read it out for me? I can’t handle it.’
Del clears her throat. ‘ “Hi Carys. Deal’s off. I won’t speak a word. Go marry Patrick. Sorry for being such a cunt. Kiss kiss.” Well, it’s two xs but you know what I mean.’
‘What was she being a cunt about?’ Ang asks.
The biggest panic attack of my life crashes through my body like a wave. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and I am about to claw out of my skin.
The hairdresser sensibly leaps out of the way and turns off the hot instruments at the wall. I hear Del usher her out the room for a break.
‘Carys? It’s okay, Carys,’ Ang whispers as she kneels in front of me.
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 a lot more 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?’
‘On Wedded Bliss of 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 my autism.
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 with metal? 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.
This part feels the hardest to explain. How once I probably did like the tea dresses, but I liked knowing I attracted men more.
For once in my life, I’d gotten something about being a woman right.
Vintage twee was a style that worked for me, and a mask of its own.
It feels shameful to admit that it was all kind of fake.
‘Have you considered whether you want to be… or are even a girl?’ Del offers gently.
‘No,’ I say quickly, but not because I’m brushing it away. ‘Woman feels right. I just don’t know who she is. I don’t know what type of woman I want to be.’
‘Well, femme isn’t for everyone, babe,’ Ang says. ‘Maybe just for the really hardcore among us.’
Del picks up an eyelash curler. ‘Like look at this fucking thing.’
‘But designing my wardrobe to appeal to men? That feels unfeminist! I feel like I’ve failed somehow.’
‘You need to quit it with this “failed” nonsense,’ Del says. ‘And look, I’m a feminist and am unfortunately exclusively attracted to men and I get it, it’s complicated and weird, and it sounds even more complicated for you with all this on top.’
‘We couldn’t prise that baseball cap off your head when you were ten,’ Ang observes. ‘You yearn for the sportswear.’
I dab my eyes. ‘I think maybe I just want to wear clothes that don’t make my skin itch all the time. Maybe some shorts once in a while.’
Del pats my thigh. ‘You can wear shorts, baby. If you want to take this bisexual awakening and live your best butch life as part of it, we will help you.’
Ang nods ferociously. ‘You know we love a makey-makeover.’
I wonder if all straight people start to talk like they’re judging Drag Race when someone comes out to them.
‘I guess you can take my old clothes,’ I say with a sniff.
‘Oh no, baby, we don’t want them at all,’ Ang says with such a sweet smile.
‘I don’t know how Patrick will feel about it. He’s only known feminine Carys,’ I sigh, and I see my sisters pass one of those unknowing psychic twin glances they hate me mentioning but definitely is a real thing.
‘So you do still like Patrick?’ Ang says slowly.
‘I do. I adore him.’
‘You don’t have to marry him, though,’ Del says, ‘if you’re still working all this out.’
‘It’s on camera, Del. I would humiliate him if I said no up there. I don’t want to end our relationship, so I’ll just say yes so we can keep going.’
Another twin glance.
‘Stop thinking things together,’ I groan. ‘I thought twins aren’t supposed to be psychic.’
Ang shakes her head. ‘Sorry. It’s a habit.’
‘Thanks for being so nice about all this,’ I say quietly. ‘I didn’t know who to tell.’
‘Have you spoken to Mum and Dad?’ Ang asks, and the force of my reaction makes her add, ‘Okay, that’s a no.’
‘Mum will just say I’ve got Carys’d away again.’
‘Oh, I hate it when she says that. It’s so fucking rude,’ Del spits. ‘I’ve told her off about it so many times.’
‘You have?’
‘Yes! It’s infantalising.’
‘And ableist,’ Ang says, looking very uncomfortable. ‘She doesn’t like to think about that part, but I think they’d love to act like you’re a girl who can’t look after yourself half the time.’
‘I’ve not done the best job,’ I say. ‘I was just crying about tights.’
‘No, I’m dead serious,’ Ang says, taking me by the shoulders like she’s going to headbutt me.
‘I am so proud of you and we would be proud of you no matter what you do, but the fact that you’ve been working and looking after yourself and teaching all those shitey wee kids about beef even though you’ve been carrying all this? ’
‘I don’t want to call you strong because I don’t think you should keep carrying it,’ says Del, feeling out her words. ‘But you are. You’re so brave.’
There’s a knock at the door, and there’s Reb, headphone round her head. ‘How are we getting on, ladies?’
None of us move, my sisters still crouched round me like protective lionesses.
‘Erm. Yeah. Alright,’ I say.
‘Cool. You’ve got an hour, and then we’ll take you down to the ceremony.’ She hesitates at the doorway. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
I don’t have the heart to tell her what I want to say, so I say, ‘Just having a normal sisterly cuddle.’
‘Nothing weird here,’ Del affirms, even though frankly, it probably looks very weird that we’re all wrapped up together on the floor.
‘Okay!’ says Reb briskly, as she walks out the door.
I go to get up, but my sisters are holding me down. It’s the perfect squeeze machine – Temple Grandin’s squeezer can’t compete with two adult sisters.
‘Are you sure-sure?’ Del says. ‘You can change your mind.’
‘If Bridget gave us the okay, then Dolly and Warren will be getting married right now anyway. It’s good. They get to look after their families together. That’s all she wanted.’ I feel my lip wobble slightly, and I bite at it to still the feeling.
My sisters relent, letting me get up.
‘I guess I’ll go and find the hair and makeup ladies we scared off,’ says Del.