The Perfect Girl

TESSA

Sam and I watch a Hitchcock film and I relax. I curl up into him once we go to bed. After the events of the evening I feel as if I’m finally in a safe place, a place where I don’t need to be a carer, or a supporter, or anything to anybody else. I can just be me.

As Sam’s breathing settles into the rhythms of sleep, I lie awake a little longer and think about the evening and about how I’m glad I’m away from Maria’s house because it’s not my life after all, it’s Maria’s, and she is, after all, an adult who’s made her own decisions.

I haven’t mentioned what happened earlier to Sam because I didn’t want to sully our time together. I wanted the few hours we spent in each other’s company tonight to be simple and lovely, and unmarred by the imperfections that have spread like stains across other areas of my life.

But even with the warmth of his body beside mine, and the cocoon of his company sheltering me from reality for a while, I shed a tear or two before I sleep; just one or two.