Chapter Thirty-Three
As soon as Georgia arrived at the locker room, she pulled her phone from her kit bag and ducked into a quiet corridor, ignoring the calls of her teammates and the concerned looks of the coaches. No new messages. No missed calls.
She opened her messages. Erin’s good luck note, sent less than two hours ago, stared implacably up at her. Georgia typed frantically.
You around?
Can I call?
Please. I need to explain. I didn’t mean to say it like that. It just came out.
She waited a full minute, breath still ragged, chest heaving. No answer.
Please call me.
Still no answer.
She knew how it would go, but she pressed the little phone icon anyway.
One ring.
Two.
Voicemail.
She tried again, and again. Voicemail each time.
Maybe Erin’s phone was turned off. Out of battery, after her day out with her dad. If it was off it wouldn’t ring at all. So, it was in the bottom of her bag, silent in a pocket somewhere. Simply not seen, rather than ignored.
The fifth time, Georgia kept the phone to her ear, even after the beep of the message ending. The weight of that moment pressed in on her chest. How Erin had flinched when Georgia had said friend, how quiet she’d gone, how fast she’d disappeared.
How Georgia hadn’t stopped her.
I want us to be in it together, Erin said after Caroline first got involved. Erin stood there, mug in hand, and begged Georgia not to shut her out.
Georgia stared at the screen, willing it to light up.
It didn’t until well into the evening. She was already at home, lost in a doom scroll on social media, trying and failing to distract herself, when her phone buzzed once.
Her heart rate spiked, thumping harder than it had all match. She closed her eyes for a moment, delaying the moment she had to face Erin’s message.
Erin (Redford RFC)
You’re in a shit situation, Georgia. I get it.
There was a pause, as the three dots waved in the corner of her screen.
But I fought hard to come out, get where I am today, and I won’t go back into the closet for anyone.
My head's a mess, Georgia. I need some space to think things through.
Georgia’s thumb hovered over the screen, ready to reply, to apologise, to explain again. But what could she say to that? She sat there, staring at the screen, as the gap between what she wanted and what she’d done widened into something that might never close again.
Rachel shifted on the sofa beside her. “You alright, mate?”
“How bad have I screwed up?”
Georgia silently turned the phone towards her, letting Rach read the messages for herself. There was a long pause. When Georgia looked up, the look on Rachel’s face told Georgia everything she needed to know.
Rachel blew out a long breath, closing her eyes as she did so.
“Bad.” Rach pushed her glasses up and rubbed at a spot along the side of her nose. “Like, if I was about to introduce someone to my parents – and I'd told her they weren't cool about me being into women – and she'd stopped me, called me a friend? I’d be heartbroken.”
Georgia’s eyes stung and she blinked, trying to control the sudden spring of tears. “Do you think it’s fixable?”
Rachel lifted one shoulder in a shrug, then reached out and put her hand on Georgia’s bent knee. “I don’t know, Hotch. Maybe. If you do a lot of grovelling.”
Georgia brought the phone back into her lap and stared down at Erin’s messages. Another one had arrived.
Good luck with the rest of the season.