Eternally North

He stroked my cheek. "You are strong and brave, you blow my mind every day and I completely adore you too – you have no idea – but are you listening to me, Tash? It's not bad admitting being with you, I'm simply protecting you. We will get our happily ever after, but it can’t be public, yet."

  "Why? What are you protecting me from?" I groaned.

  If I have to ask that question one more time…

  He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, controlling his emotions, debating what to tell me. He eventually sighed and bowed his head in defeat. "I'm gonna go, give you time to cool down. I'll see you soon okay." He tried to kiss my cheek as he moved past.

  I pulled away. "See yourself out."

  I could feel him staring at me, willing me to face at him, but I couldn't . I couldn't look him in the way he wanted, I thought I would break if I did.

  He rubbed his hands over his pale, unshaven cheeks and swiftly left, slamming the door for effect.

  CHAPTER 24

  The fall of the Tudor reign

  Now what's a girl to do when she's feeling low and unloved? That's right, I hit the gym and worked out my frustrations.

  Yeah, right!

  I hit the cupboards, brought out as many things containing chocolate I could find and watched my much-loved DVD of Wuthering Heights, featuring Tom Hardy as Heathcliff, on the sofa decked in my (somewhat fitting) snug piggy onesie. I sat there for hours, wallowing in misery, and found myself screaming at Cathy to ditch Heathcliff as a friend or otherwise, that he was wrong for her, that he would ruin her with all his schizophrenic actions and broodiness, that she should just love Edgar Linton, have a nice loving life with Edgar Linton. No matter how much I screamed at the screen, Cathy didn’t listen to me and my fantastic advice – even in death she chose the heavily-tattooed and muscly Tom Hardy interpretation of Heathcliff. Why do women always go for the bad boys? Can't live with them, can't live without them.

  Oh My God!

  I bolted upright, crushing chocolate wrappers under my ever-expanding arse as it dawned on me. I was Cathy and Tudor was Heathcliff, just instead of moors in Yorkshire we had condos in Calgary! Shit a brick! Kate Bush should be crooning about Mr. Tribal Tattoo and his perpetually confused curvy tit-bit!

  Tink came in a few hours later and gasped at the amount of wrappers spread around my comatose and sugar-ravished body. After blowing a kiss and slapping his arse at Tom Hardy on the screen, he proclaimed, "Well, toss my greens and call me Caesar!" and started to wade through the sea of rubbish to reach me.

  "What's he done?"

  I groaned at the chocolate-induced sickness swirling in my bloated stomach. "He’s issued a statement on this fine winter day telling the world that we are not together, that I'm a friend he met only briefly while prepping for a movie or some shit like that. How fucking splendid! And how was your day, darling?"

  Tink squished next to me on the couch and looked at me wearily, “I saw the photo, Prosciutto."

  That snapped me out of it. "And?"

  "And I’ve already spoken to Tudor. He called me a couple of hours ago, worrying about you and the way you were feeling when he left. He explained that he had issued a denial statement, but that he was doing it to protect you, and that we were not due to cash in our 'You dare hurt Tash and we'll throw down' deal just yet."

  I sighed. "Did he tell you what he was protecting me from?"

  He shook his head. "Tate reckons that Tudor is having a tough time at the moment, like, sandpaper-rough; like, non-moisturised-face-in-a-harsh-winter-rough; like, a-Northern-lass-on-the-walk-of-shame-rough; like–," I ignored the rest of Tink’s beautiful analogies.

  "Then why won't he explain things to me?"

  He moved in for a cuddle. "Look, Wil, I love you, and I see how Tudor is with you. It makes me happy to see you together now. If he says he is keeping things from you for your sake, I'd be inclined to let it go. I wouldn't stand by and let him hurt you without issuing him a bitch slap if I thought he was being malicious and cruel."

  I huffed and rammed a whole Cadbury's Dairy Milk bar into my mouth – I know, talented aren’t I? "Easier said than done!" I mumbled through my full mouth.

  "Well, keeping things from the ones you love is difficult, but sometimes if you think it's for the best, you go with that option." he said with conviction.

  "Oh yeah? And how would you know, gobshite?"

  He laid a hand over his chest, mouth open. "Erm... hello! Gay-boy present. I was so far back in the closet to my family, I was living in Narnia! I met the Snow Queen but out-bitched her, stole all of her Turkish Delight and ravaged Mr. Tumnus, ruining him for all other fawns!"

  "Fine, you do get it... but didn't you feel better when you shared your secret?"

  "Well, no-one believed me at first back in war-torn England, but then Aslan the lion–"

  "Tink!"

  He pursed his lips to stop from smirking. "Okay, okay! Did I feel better for coming out to the sperm and egg donors? Me, yes, I felt relieved; did they feel better? No. I was friggin' shipped off to a gay turn-around camp, and even though I found the pleasures of the oral and anal variety there, I don't know. I now think that sometimes keeping a secret may be better in the long run… for certain people. Let me tell you first hand, when someone you love so much rejects you after you’ve struggled for so long with such a heavy secret, that is no fault of your own, well – it crushes you. Tudor may be scared of your reaction to his issues; he needs to tell you in his own time and you need to let him."

  I narrowed my eyes. "Since when did you become the wise one?"

  He shrugged and batted his Hollywood Lash extensions. "I'm like a fit fookin' Yoda, only I'm tangerine-tan orange and have near-perfect syntax! Oh, and I don't think Tudor’s secret is of the homo persuasion, FYI. My internal gay-dar didn't ping when I met him. My anaconda-sized treasured Sergeant Stiffy did, but that was simply in appreciation of his fine muscles."

  He never fails!

  "Good to know. I'm not sure I could handle two queens in my life." I said playfully, my heart feeling less heavy.

  "Pisht! Everything's shinier with a bit of glitter!" he sang while throwing invisible fairy dust over the room.

  "Yep, okay, for once I agree." I laughed, and then breathed a deflated sigh.

  Tink threw an arm around my shoulders. "What's up, buttercup? You still look blue," he said with a frown.

  "I just loathe frickin' secrets, they cock everything up! You’d better not be hiding anything from me. I can't handle anything else."

  He coughed and removed his arm from our embrace. I shuffled to face him, "What? Why are you suddenly being so weird?" I asked, beginning to worry.

  "If I'm being weird it’ll probably just be the hormones."

  "What? Hormones?"

  He crouched down next to me, knees on the carpet, taking my hands in his perfectly-manicured ones. "Wil, I've been keeping a pint-sized porkie too." His face was so serious that I clutched his fingers tight.

  "Oh my God, Tink, what is it? You're scaring me," I whispered, my heart beginning to race.

  "Wil..." He drew in a shaky breath and tears filled his eyes. "It’s a shock but...”

  “But what???” I squeaked.

  “… I'm… I’m… pregnant!"

  I threw away his hands. Prick! "Tink!" I screamed in annoyance.

  He put his hands on his hips. "Hey, can I help it if Tatey's super-sperm has defied science?"

  I pursed my lips together as he moved to the floor-length mirror in the hall and felt his 'bump', before I burst out laughing.

  He ran over to me diving next to me on the sofa. "Ah-ha, she smiles!!!" he shouted and pulled me in for a snuggle. "For what it's worth, sausage, I think you should trust him."

  I sighed. "I'll try."

  "That's all he wants."

  I nudged him in his ribs. "Since when did you stick up for Mr. North? This is quite the turn around."

  "Erm... about the time I saw those thrusting glutes in action! I've dreamt about them ever
since. Have you noticed the dimples and the small mole just to the left of–,"

  "Shut up and come here!" I grabbed him and pulled him in for a bear hug, he pulled back, hissing, and winced. "What now?" I asked, not really wanting the answer.

  "It's my titties, hun. Since I got knocked up they've been rock hard and hurting like a bitch," he shrugged and put a finger to his mouth. "Must be the beginning of my lactation."

  I struggled to hold in my laughter. “You’re a weird little freak, you know that? Honestly!"

  He wiggled his fingers at me, cackling. "But I'm your little freak and you love me anyway," he said with all confidence.

  "God knows I do!" I lilted.

  "Well, you and my little Pookie."

  "What?" I screeched and pulled him to arm’s length. He smiled a huge, loving smile. Aww!

  "He loves me, ham roll, me! The sun has finally come out! I bet my bottom dollar and it came out!"

  "And?" I pushed.

  "And, I told him I loved him too – he's my shy little field mouse," he confided coyly.

  "Babe, I'm super chuffed for you! My mam will be so excited to meet him." I crushed him with another hug.

  "Thanks, pork loin." He nudged me with his elbow, eying me up.

  "What?"

  "I think someone loves you too."

  I rolled my eyes. "Moving swiftly on..."

  "No! And stop rolling them eyes at me! I'm telling you, he loves you and your fine curves." He turned to me and sang, "Tash and Tudor sitting in a tree, S-E-X-X-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes marriage, then come Tink and Tatey to complete the package!"

  I burst out laughing when he pounced on me. "Come on, Wil; bring it in, on the count of three: 'Team Four-T's!' You ready?"

  I reluctantly threw in my arms, laying them over his. "One... two... three."

  "Team Four-T's," we shouted in unison, and then let out several belly-laughs. Tink kissed my cheek and grasped my hand, laying his head on my shoulder and snorting with laughter at our chant. When we had calmed down, a peaceful silence filled the room. "Wil?"

  "Mmm?"

  "I think you love him too."

  I froze and then, quick as a snit, jumped from the couch. "You want a drink, you slut of a fay?"

  Tink tutted loudly at my avoidance of the topic. "You can't lie to me or yourself forever, piglet!"

  I cranked up Fears on my iDock and motioned that I couldn't hear him over the music. I knew Tink’s words were dangerously close to being the truth, and I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it.

  I went to school as normal on Monday and Tuesday, and again, I didn't see Tudor on the evenings. We spoke on the phone, though mostly it felt strained and contrived. He had agreed to come over on Wednesday to see me before I flew home on Thursday night for Christmas – it was something, I supposed.

  For my final lesson of the term, I had the Grade Ten World Religions class, and in it was Boleyn Jones, who had quite quickly been taken out of ‘Destiny’s Delinquents’ and placed back into normal, mainstream classes. I was still at a loss as to why she was ever there in the first place, and Tudor wasn’t cracking, so as ever, I was none the wiser.

  I knew for a fact that Tudor had never informed Boleyn of our relationship, but I was slightly nervous that she may have seen the photo of us together on the internet or the TV, like the rest of the world – in fact I was convinced she had. If the snickers and whispers that followed me through the school corridors from her fellow classmates were any indication, she had definitely seen me aboard the back of the Tudor Express.

  From the moment she walked in, I knew something was up. I stood at the door and welcomed in each child as normal. Boleyn was the last through the door. “How are you Boleyn, excited for Christmas break?” I asked cheerily.

  She simply and muttered. “Oh yeah, ecstatic!”

  O-kay!

  “Well, someone’s in the festive spirit! Cheer up, it may never happen!” I joked, trying to improve her stinking attitude whilst I turned to the board writing ‘The Five Pillars of Islam’ across the centre.

  I heard a screech of a chair, and snapped around to face the class at the sound.

  Boleyn was standing near her desk, face full of thunder. “May never happen? What the hell do you know? Believe it or not, you're not always right.”

  My head shot back to look at her. What did she just say to me? "Erm, Boleyn, please do not take that tone with me. Let’s discuss this calmly." I said firmly.

  Her eyes began to fill with water. "Why, are you struggling to understand me? What's wrong? Can't you understand my accent? ‘Cos that’d be rich, coming from you!"

  "Boleyn, this is your last warning. Reel it in, now and tell me what the problem is!" I stared at her expression, and her bottom lip began to tremble, tears streaming down her face. She was becoming hysterical.

  I moved around my desk pushing my arms out, trying to calm her down. “Boleyn, settle down. What’s wrong? Come outside, come on,” I offered as I ushered her out of the door and into the quiet corridor, using the calming voice that we were trained at University to use to soothe an irate child.

  I craned my head back into the classroom. “The rest of you, create five questions that you have about the Islamic faith in the back of your books. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and no talking!" I shrilled.

  Boleyn was against the wall and was angry as hell as she used the sleeves of her shirt to mop up her wet cheeks. I turned to face her. “Right, what is going on? If you have a problem you can talk to me about it. Lashing out in class is not like you.”

  She laughed scarily. “Oh, I do have a problem…you!”

  Ah, so she did see the photo then. Get yourself out of this one then, Tash!

  I nodded, trying to be a calming presence. “And why is that?”

  She moved from the wall to get right in my face. “Because you came into this school like Mary fucking Poppins and tried to make everything better, but you can’t, can you? You’re just like everyone else, helpless to do anything!”

  I pinched in my brows, confused. “Boleyn, you can talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, I’m sure I can help.”

  She walked away for a few steps then turned back, furious, and shouted, “Why? ‘Cos you’re screwing my brother?”

  I stepped back in shock. “W-What?”

  “I know it’s you he keeps disappearing to. I saw the photo, even if he won’t admit to it!”

  “Boleyn–” I stepped towards her.

  “No! Get back. You know nothing about me, my family or my brother! Why don’t you just go back to England for good? No-one wants you here! I don’t want you here. I thought you would make things better but you have just fucked them up more!” She began walking backwards.

  “How? How have I made things worse? Boleyn, I don’t understand?” I tried to placate.

  She scowled. “Just go away and leave us alone! I hate you! You’ve made it all come back! It’s all going to happen again, and it’s your fault!” And she fled out of the building.

  Running back into my classroom, I quickly informed Ms. Thomas via the phone in my office, and was told that everything would be sorted without my help. She wouldn’t tell me any more than that, and I was left reeling.

  With that, school broke up for the holidays.

  Merry bleeding Christmas!

  As soon as school was done – literally on the bell – I went straight home. I opened the door aggressively, ruthlessly taking out my anger on the eight-foot contraption, and there was Tudor, waiting on the couch.

  Perfect!

  I threw down my bag, walked straight past him to the kitchen and poured myself a large glass of wine. I took a long sip and turned towards my distant lover, who was now standing in the centre of the living room, looking incredibly awkward. “Where’s Tink?” I asked curtly.

  “He let me in as he was leaving to meet with Tate; he flies back to LA tonight for the holidays. He went to say ‘bye.”

  I nodded, remembering Tink had told me that ear
lier that morning, while at the same time noticing that Tudor was decked in all black, a perfect reflection of my less-than-stellar mood. He cocked his head to the side, motioning for me to sit down next to him on the sofa.

  I walked over and dropped down beside him. He looked at me cautiously, judging my mood. “So, how was your day?”

  I laughed bitterly and took another swig of wine. “Oh, just peachy! Your sister went bat-shit crazy at me in class and basically announced to the entire school that I was shagging you, and then guess what? I wasn’t allowed to have any say in her punishment or be clued-in as to why she went nuts at me for what seemed like absolutely no reason! Oh, she also told me to move back to England permanently as no-one wanted me here.”

  He threw his head back and groaned. “She doesn’t need punishing, Tash. I’ve been with her the past couple of hours and she feels bad enough for everything she said, she's in a real bad way. She definitely doesn’t need any further punishing.”

  “Really? Why, because she’s your sister? Because let me tell you, if any other student went off at a teacher like that, they’d be at least suspended.”

  “Just leave it, Tash. Leave her alone,” he said forcefully.

  I slapped my hands down on my knees. “Oh this is priceless! You won’t tell me what’s up with you, your sister throws the mother of all wobblies and she’s let off the hook, and you tell me to just leave it? All these secrets are making me crazy, Tudor. Any more and I'll be one flew over the cuckoo's nest!”

  He stood up, glaring down at me. “You have no idea what we are all going through, so just friggin’ leave it alone, Tash. God!”

  He was a stranger to me at that moment.

  I stood up to match his pissed-off stance. I was so done. “I’m going to ask you one more time to explain things to me, or at least tell me a hint, a tiny morsel of what you’re going through. If not, then…” I shrugged.

  He grabbed my arm. “Then what?”

  I snatched it away aggressively. “Then we are done, Tudor.”

  I saw the horrified expression on his face; I didn't let it stop me in my tirade. “I have been so bloody stupid. People must be having a great laugh at my idiocy! Actually, scratch that – they wouldn’t be, would they? Because nobody knows about us, I’m your dirty little secret! I mean, we got very serious way too quick with a freakin’ raincloud of secrets hanging over us every step of the way. I’ve acted like a hormonally-charged teenager and let my attraction for you outweigh what this relationship should be, you know, an adult one built on honesty and trust. But I have had enough. I knew deep down that I wouldn’t be able to live with not sharing everything with you, or rather you with me, but I tried because of how much you mean to me. I want to give you one last chance to tell me what is going on, to salvage this, us, to put your faith in me once and for all.”