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Johanna knew she tended to worry too much. She worried about a lot of things; about the house, about herself, about other people’s opinions, and especially about Hilda. She had always been an anxious person; deep down, although she wasn’t sure if she was ready to admit it, part of her knew it was her own mother’s fault.
But she did her best to keep a lid on it. Hilda wasn’t like other children; she saw things differently, in a way that ran deeper than just being raised different, and she needed the freedom to be herself. Trying to get her to be ‘normal’, to give up her adventures and conform and be safe, would just hurt her. And Johanna knew that a no amount of sleepless nights or judgemental looks from misunderstanding parents would ever change that.
But recently, something else had changed. For the first time in her life, Hilda had friends her age; other kids who liked her for who she was and didn’t mind her differences or the adventures. Johanna couldn’t help feeling proud whenever they came over, talking happily about times spent together.
She knew they’d had a rough patch, too, around the end of the school year. But after the camping trip and the Black Hound incident they’d clearly gotten over it, falling in closer than ever, and Johanna had found herself promising that David and Frida could come over whenever Hilda wanted them to.
And that was when her worries had reared their ugly heads again. Because over the next few weeks, one of Hilda’s friends took that offer much more than the other. David came most weekends, but Frida was soon dropping in almost every day; she would appear after school or Sparrow Scouts, and despite Johanna’s promise she would ask if she could spend some time with Hilda, and the woman would always say yes and ask if she wanted dinner.
Johanna didn’t know Frida’s parents well. She had only spoken to them twice, once in person at Parents’ Evening, and once on the phone the night that Hilda went missing. Both times had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth, snide, judgy remarks about her parenting and her daughter’s differences ringing in her ears. And after all that, when Frida started spending more and more time at the Pearson household, Johanna couldn’t help wondering if she was trying to avoid similar.
Her concerns only grew one afternoon. Frida had come round again; apparently her and Hilda had been on an adventure beneath the library, meeting witches and fighting monsters, and Frida glowed with pride as Hilda talked about how cool she’d been. Johanna couldn’t explain how, but got the distinct sense she wasn’t really used to this kind of praise, to support that wasn’t restricted to academic circles and didn’t hinge on her being better than perfect.
The mood shifted after dinner; Tontu helped wash up, then disappeared into Nowhere Space to put everything away; Hilda ran off into her room, taking Alfur with her, but Frida didn’t follow. Instead she lingered by the table, her gaze down and her breaths shaky. So Johanna approached her slowly, keeping a gentle smile on her face.
“Is everything alright?” she asked softly, concern rising. Frida squirmed, uncertainty in her eyes.
“Yes,” she said too quickly, “I, I’m fine, it’s just…” one hand reached up, rubbing her opposite arm. “There’s something I want to tell you, something I realised today, but it’s… hard to say.”
“Well, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Johanna promised softly, kneeling down in front of the girl, “but I promise, Frida, whatever it is; you can tell me. I won’t be upset.”
Frida seemed to consider it for a moment. She looked back, down the corridor to Hilda’s room, seemingly checking to make sure her friend wasn’t in earshot. Then she shut her eyes, her whole body tensing as she took a deep breath, and spoke again.
“I’m… I think I’m gay!” Johanna blinked; she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. Frida opened her eyes, her chest shuddering with shaky breaths. “Or, sapphic, at least. I’m not really sure exactly what label I’d use yet, not really, but after today I’m sure I’m queer.”
“Oh,” Johanna said softly, her concern melting away. “I’m so happy that you’ve started to find yourself,” she reassured. Frida relaxed a little at that, the tension leaving her frame, but there was still uncertainty in her dark eyes.
Johanna went on. “It doesn’t matter that you haven’t settled on a label yet, no matter what anyone says; what matters is that you’re comfortable, and you know yourself; you have as long as you need to figure the rest out.”
“Thanks,” Frida replied quietly, “I kind-of needed to hear that, I think. But it’s more than that.” She took another deep breath, glancing over her shoulder again. “The reason I started thinking about it, the reason I know, is, is… is because I think I have a crush on Hilda.
“I know that’s probably weird for you to hear,” she continued, more words spilling out in a torrent, “since you’re her mum and all that. But being with Hilda always makes me feel different, in a good way. I don’t really have the right words for it, I just, I feel all warm and fluttery inside when we hang out together.
“And today especially, she really helped me, more than I think she even realised. I’m learning witchcraft now, because of her, a-and she’s going to be my familiar. And I feel like I’m finding myself for the first time.” She looked down, hanging her head. “Sorry if that doesn’t make any sense.”
Johanna couldn’t suppress a fond sigh. It almost made too much sense to her; she had seen how close Frida was with her daughter, the strength of the bond they shared. Those feelings growing deeper seemed almost predestined.
“Frida, it’s okay,” she said gently, reaching out to place one hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I know those feelings can be hard to understand; trust me, I know. But it does make sense, and I’m just glad you two are so close.”
“So you… wouldn’t mind if I told Hilda?” Frida said gingerly, her eyes wide. “If I asked her if she felt the same?”
“Not one bit,” Johanna promised. She leaned in close, a fond smile on her face. “Between you and me,” she whispered, “I wouldn’t be surprised if my daughter does share some of those feelings. But if she doesn’t, just, promise me you won’t let it come between you, okay? You’re such wonderful friends, and I’m sure she’ll understand no matter what.”
“Okay,” Frida replied, a small smile crossing her face as her fears subsided, “thanks Mum-” Her eyes snapped wide open, her cheeks darkening with embarrassment. “Wait, no, Johanna!” she blurted. “Sorry! It just-”
“It’s okay,” Johanna cut her off, gently squeezing her shoulder. “Now, I think Hilda’s going to start worrying if you make her wait any longer.”
“Right.” Frida nodded, her embarrassment fading again. Johanna stood up, pulling her hand back; the girl turned away, and she watched as she hurried off towards Hilda’s room with fresh confidence in her chest.
Johanna smiled as Frida disappeared through that old wooden door, then sat down to make herself some tea. But as she headed over to the counter she couldn’t help worrying again; did Frida really see her as a parental figure? Had she even come out to her own, real parents yet? And if she hadn’t, and if she did really see Johanna that way, then what did that say about her home life?
By the time Johanna had to drive Frida home that night, it was clear what had happened in that warm bedroom down the hall. The two girls held hands all the way down to the car, blushing and shooting furtive glances with their fingers intertwined. It made Johanna’s heart swell, seeing the bond the two shared, and it swelled even more when Hilda stopped at the car door.
“Hey, um, Frida?” she said awkwardly, tugging on their held hands just a little. “Before you have to go, can I try something?”
“What kind of thing?” Frida replied softly, trust in her eyes. Hilda swallowed; watching the pair fondly, Johanna was already sure she knew what was coming.
“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” the blue-haired girl asked. “It’s fine if not, I just feel like it would be nice?”
“Of course it would be okay!” Frida practically beamed, a blush spreading across her face again. She reached out, her free hand finding Hilda’s, and they fell together happily. Johanna stepped back, not wanting to intrude, but she kept half-an-eye on the kids as their lips clumsily met for the first time.
It was awkward and uncertain, middle-school feelings made manifest, but it was just as sweet and genuine as the feelings behind it. And when they both broke apart again after a moment, blushes ear-to-ear and eyes shining with affection, there was something beautiful in the evening air around them.
“Alright then,” Johanna broke the comfortable silence, unable to keep the fondness from her voice. “Time to get going; you’ll both have plenty more time for romance tomorrow.” Frida grinned all the way home.
That night, Johanna couldn’t stop herself from lingering in Hilda’s doorway as she headed to bed, looking down at the sleeping daughter she loved so much. In her own way, her little girl was growing up, and her mother couldn’t have been prouder. She would always have her worries, she knew, but she was sure she was doing the right thing. So with a smile she turned away, ambling over to her own room.
A sudden sound stopped her dead in her tracks: a brisk knocking, a flurry of almost frantic sounds from the living room. Immediately the hairs on the back of her neck stood on-end; why would someone be here so late? What could they be after so long after dark?
She stepped briskly down the corridor, worries spiralling as she approached the flat door. She opened it slowly, peering around the wood to try and see who was outside, only to freeze at the sight. Her blood ran cold; there on her doorstep, shivering in the darkness of the lobby stairs, was the girl she had dropped home only a few hours ago.
“Johanna?” Frida’s voice was almost a whisper, fragile and pained. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, and alarm bells went off in Johanna’s head as she realised the girl was wearing nothing but pyjamas.
She swallowed, then spoke again, her voice quavering. “I, I’m sorry; I know it’s really late, a-and I’m probably interrupting your evening, but you said I could come over whenever and I, I…” she trailed off with a sharp sniffle. Johanna’s heart broke at the pain in her voice.
“Of course, Frida, come in,” she said quickly, stepping aside and pulling the door wide open. Frida hesitated on the threshold for a moment, before taking a deep breath and stepping forwards into the light of the apartment.
Johanna breathed in sharply as she did, horrified surprise getting the better of her. Because the yellow lantern-glow shone off red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks, and a half-broken child whose shivering seemed to come from more than just the cold. She quickly shut the door, turning and kneeling down in front of Frida.
“What happened, sweetheart?” she asked, trying to keep the rising panic from her voice. Frida shifted uncomfortably, her gaze boring into the floor.
“I…” she struggled for the right words, “I had a big fight with my parents.” Her face scrunched up, more tears leaking from her eyes. “After today, I wanted to tell them what I told you, a-about knowing I’m queer, and dating Hilda, but they, they…” She couldn’t finish; the implication hung heavy in the empty air.
“Weren’t they happy?” Johanna breathed. Frida winced, then hung her head.
“They weren’t… unhappy,” she said carefully, “but the first thing out of mum’s mouth when I told her I liked girls was ‘how do you know?’” She shook her head. “She was really weird about it; she kept asking how I’d realised and if I was sure.”
“Oh Frida,” Johanna couldn’t help saying; she already knew where this was going, long-ignored memories rising in her mind.
“In the end I got her to admit it,” the girl continued sadly. “She said she was fine with ‘those people’, but she was sure I wasn’t one of them; that I was just confused and too young to know that about myself and that, that I shouldn’t be with Hilda.
“Dad agrees with her.” She hung her head. “They both have this idea of who I am in their heads, this perfect daughter who’s just like them and nothing like I really am. And because me being queer wasn’t part of that, I had to be wrong about it, a-about myself!”
“I know how that feels,” Johanna couldn’t help saying; she reached out, putting one hand on the girl’s shoulder, “trust me, I do; and I know you know yourself better than anyone.” Frida just nodded limply, sniffling again.
“I ended up getting really mad at them,” she admitted. “I-I told them that; that I’m not who they think I am, and they don’t know me well enough to say that about me. And I ended up admitting all the things they didn’t know, about our adventures, about me becoming a witch, about everything.”
Johanna almost didn’t dare ask her to continue, but she knew Frida had to get it all out. So she gently squeezed her shoulder, and as softly as she could she asked, “how did they take that?”
“Badly,” Frida said, blunt and cold, “they, they said they didn’t know where this had come from, but this wasn’t the daughter they raised. That Hilda’s a bad influence and you’re an awful mum and I shouldn’t be coming here or spending time with her or getting involved with magic anymore. I tried to tell them they were wrong, that I’m just not who they thought I was, but they weren’t having it.
“They said I, I wasn’t welcome there unless I wanted to be their daughter again. But I just can’t be that perfect girl; I’m not her! I tried to be, I really did, for so long, a-and when I failed I even took it out on Hilda at first because I couldn’t accept it. But in the end I realised how wrong I was; it was my fault, and being with her and David and all of that made me so much happier than trying to live up to what my parents want.”
She sniffed again, but it was no use; her eyes welled up and overflowed, streams running down her cheeks and shining in the warm light. Johanna couldn’t stop herself from reaching out, pulling the girl that she suddenly, desperately wanted to be her own against the soft fabric of her sweater. A lump settled in her throat, brought on by painful memories and deep sympathy.
“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” she soothed.
“But it’s not!” Frida protested, squirming in her arms. “I don’t want to go back but I can’t go anywhere else, and I, I, I don’t know what to do!”
“Shhh,” Johanna replied, blinking as her eyes started to sting. “You’re right, what your parents did isn’t okay, and I’m so, so sorry they would treat you like that. But what I mean is that things will be okay, because you do have somewhere to go.”
“What?” Frida froze in surprise, sniffing sharply.
“Sweetheart, you’re the best friend and more that my daughter could ask for,” Johanna explained gently, “and more than that, you’re an amazing girl in your own right; the real you, not the one your mum and dad invented.
“You deserve a place to live, a better place, and I already promised you were always welcome here.” Frida slumped against her at that, burrowing into the embrace. “Besides,” Johanna added fondly, “you practically live here already.”
Frida cried at that. She let it all out into the woman’s arms, soaking up comfort and warmth and letting her pain flow away in a flood of saltwater. Johanna just held her as it all came up, squeezing her reassuringly and running a hand through her dark curly hair as her body heaved with painful sobs.
Finally she grew quiet, sniffing away the last of her tears. She shifted back, and Johanna opened her arms enough to let her pull her face away. Their gazes met, and Johanna felt a swelling of protective warmth at the fragile hope in her child’s eyes.
“Tomorrow, we’ll get everything we need,” she promised. “I’ll tell Hilda, and we’ll get new furniture, and she and Tontu can help me set up the spare room for you. You’ll have your own space for as long as you need it.”
“Thanks, Mum-” Frida cut herself off, her face suddenly flushed under the tear-tracks. “I, uh, Johanna. I mean Johanna.”
“It’s alright,” Johanna promised, ruffling the girl’s hair. Frida finally smiled at that, leaning into the touch. “You’ll be okay on an air mattress for one night, right? I’m sure we still have one somewhere.”
“Actually,” Frida replied gingerly, taking a deep breath; her cheeks darkened again. “I know this is probably weird; you’re not my mum, and my parents said I’m too old for this, but is there any chance I could sleep with you tonight? It’s fine if not, I just don’t really want to be alone.”
She winced as the words left her mouth, already braced for rejection. But Johanna just pulled her in tightly again, squeezing her gently. “Of course that’s okay, sweetheart,” she promised, before quietly adding, “Hilda still sleeps with me when she has bad dreams.”
Frida just murmured gratefully, exhausted and relieved and home. So Johanna scooped her up and got to her feet, cradling the girl against her front. And as she carried her into the apartment, despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help feeling a growing warmth at the thought of Frida being part of her family too.
In time, weeks would turn to months, and the girl would settle into her new and better home and learn to live and be loved without demand. But that was still to come, and for now, for that one cold, awful night, she was safe in the arms of a woman who cared. And that was enough.
