The John Hughes Club

Chapter Twenty Eight

I love walking on the beach. It's something that Chas and I often do. Being as it's such a nice afternoon, with a cloudless blue sky and the sun warmly so high, we're doing my favourite thing now that school has finished for the day. It doesn't matter that sand gets everywhere or that the sea breeze makes my curls messily wild, I just love the sound and smell of the ocean. "I thought Zigs was going to combust when he told us about him and Ella." With his hand threaded with mine, Chas is smiling at the memory of an energetic Zigs announcing to us both at lunchtime that Ella had agreed to go to the cinema with him this Saturday. I already knew, as Ella had messaged me quite late last night to tell me, but I didn't want to rain on Zigs' excited parade, so I pretended to be just as surprised as Chas was.

With my eyes fixed on the distant tide, I smile out into its distance. "He was certainly hyped about it, wasn't he?" I calmly remark.

"When you told me yesterday that Zigs was planning on asking Ella out, I'll admit, I had my doubts whether she would agree to it."

Dragging my content gaze away from the sea, I'm now very much looking at Chas. "Why?" I ask him, curious as to why he would think that.

Confidently, Chas holds his head high with a knowingness sitting on his face. "I've never gotten that vibe from her that she's into Zigs in that way."

With eagerness, I feel like I should let him see things from a different perspective. "Maybe she didn't want anyone to pick up on any vibes?" My dark brow has arched, along with the curl of my questioning smile. "Ella messaged me last night, I think she's just shy about everything. She likes Zigs, but I think there's a part of her that's worried she'll lose his friendship if going out together doesn't go to plan for them."

With a slow smile that's gradually building, Chas gives me a smug little sideways glance. "I don't know, Mindy...a vibe is a vibe, you can't hide a vibe."

Laughing, I turn that laughter back to the sea. "Well, maybe their vibe is a late starter?" I playfully state.

Bringing our linked hands up to his mouth, his lips tenderly find their way to the inside of my wrist, kissing it with a lingering tenderness. "Maybe." Then just as I am, Chas happily stares out at the sea. In comfortable silence, we stroll on the surface of the sand, the mellow breeze feeling good on both of our youthful faces. "Promise me that we'll still find time to do this when we're at college?" Chas quietly requests, not once removing his calm gaze from the oceanic horizon.

Squeezing his hand with the love of the vow I am about to give him, I'm keen to answer, "I promise." Hugging the whole of his forearm, my strides beside of Chas become bouncier. Here, in this moment, with him—feels good.

"I'm glad we do this. Us, just being us," Chas softly states, now smiling down at my face that's all smushed up against the top of his arm because it just loves being that close to him.

"Me too." This is the closest I've ever been to genuine happiness. Lately, I'm becoming more and more aware of the positive changes happening inside of me. I'm facing so many things that I've not wanted to face...including, my actual face. After my little heart-to-heart with Ros last night, I did reacquaint myself with my makeup-less face. In the mirror, a pure and naked reflection met with my brown eyes. For so many years, I've not looked properly at myself. For so many years, I've always smeared on the foundation long before being able to look at the blank canvas of skin that I'm about to work on with shades of the darkest black. Not even after baths or showers, would a mirror ever be near me. So the uncovered face I saw last night, came as a big surprise to me. It's older. Now a teenager. For nearly half an hour, I just stared at my reflection. In that time, not once did it disgust me. Not once did I need to look away from it. Last night, I'd had every intention of revealing my older and no longer despised face to the world, but that changed when this morning arrived. This morning, I lost that confidence from the night before. I first began using makeup to mask all of my hurt. Now, it's an integral part of me. Ros was right—it has come to define me.

"You've been doing a lot of that today...daydreaming." Enveloping his arms around the whole of my upper body, Chas gives me one of his protective cuddles. "Something's on your mind," he softly states, snugly holding onto me.

Something is on my mind. I tell Chas everything, why should now be any different? "Ros FaceTimed me last night," I begin with, inwardly feeling on edge. "She said something that kind of hit a nerve, it got me thinking."

"What did she say to you?" Chas now stops walking, needing to look at me; a chill of concern hanging from the edge of his question.

Stroking his clothed arms, I answer him with an assuring smile, "It's nothing bad, it's just something that no one has ever had the guts to say to me." With Chas visibly relaxing in front of me, I go on, "Does it bother you that I wear all of this?" Pointing a finger at my own face, I need to know what he thinks of my goth-inspired makeup.

With his thoughts, Chas tilts his head to one side. "If it did, I wouldn't be here now, would I?" A smile erupts across his amused and kind mouth, just as he brings his body closer. "What's bothering you?"

Is it here I tell him, that after losing Anais, I hated myself? Do I tell him how I hated who I was? Do I confess how much I hated my face? "Makeup has become my war paint, Chas. Every single day, I've been at war with myself because of my sister. This all became a mask." Again, I point at my face. "It's a mask that I've been hiding behind for years. One that's been hiding the real me for a very long time. I used to wear it thinking 'if I can't like the real me, why would anyone else?'...so, the makeup stayed." Swallowing down the painful lump that's sitting in my throat, my voice is getting quieter and quieter. "Last night, Ros told me that my makeup now defines me. She's the first person to vocalise that they know I am using my makeup as a mask." Biting my lip, it begins throbbing with my emotional pulse.

Studying the play of emotions everywhere on my face, Chas is quiet. I know he's allowing what I have told him to nestle somewhere important in his brain. After a few intense moments, he takes hold of my chin, resting it on the tips of his gentle fingers, coaxing me to not look away from him. "The you that you keep hiding beneath all of that foundation and eyeliner, is someone who I know is bravely beautiful."

"Am I?" I ask, absorbing him with speculation in my eyes.

The warmth of his smile quickly brightens his thoughtful expression. "Yes, you are." With the sea breeze blowing thick strands of my curls across my eyes, Chas tenderly sweeps them away. "With or without makeup, you're amazing, Mindy Diaz. Surrounded by black or not, your eyes will always feel like home to me. Whether you've got lipstick on or off, your lips will always beg to be kissed by me. Your voice, your heart, your strong spirit...those are the things I most adore about you."

Feeling like I've just been dropped from a very high height, only the arms of Chas are going to cushion my euphoric fall. Embracing him hard, my head rests against the comfort of his chest. "I equally adore you." Neither one of us have yet used the L word, but adore is pretty darn close. Love shouldn't be just said, it should be felt. When it is, when it's felt and truly understood, that's the green light to say it. For both Chas and I, we will know when it's the right time to say it. It won't be pondered over or become an anxious thought—it'll just be felt and then expressed.

Hugging me while kissing the top of my head, I just know that Chas is now smiling. "How about I buy you an ice cream?"

Liking the sound of that, I reluctantly withdraw from our affectionate embrace. "I'd love one."

Reaching out, Chas waits to catch my hand with his. Happily, they're soon entwined. To anyone who might see us, we probably just look like a pair of teenagers without a care in the world. But Chas and I, we are so much more than that. We are two teenagers who live every day in the shadow of grief. Every day, we are surviving that grief. We're adolescents who do care. We probably care too much. In each other, we have found understanding and patience. We've also found fun and adoration. So hand in hand, walking on the beach, with the sea breeze caressing our smiles and the waves of the Bristol Channel in the far distance, we are two brave and caring teens getting an ice cream.