Fade Into You

Dickinson

"It's so very obvious that Emily Dickinson was a lesbian," I argued in my 20th-century seminar, a white male trying to prove me wrong today was a mistake.

"You can't say every female writer is a lesbian just because you're a lesbian who writes," he laughed in disbelief, the rest of the room was pretty quiet as he and I had been going off at each other for about 15 minutes now.

My lecturer was just watching it unfold, very clearly on my side but would never verbalise that for fear of also getting shouted at by this tiny man. The girl opposite me was subtly recording this moment and clicked her fingers every time I made a very valid point. We all knew Dickinson was a lesbian, but this was more than that, I was now fighting to win, and I was going to do exactly that.

"You don't really have a valid point here," I told him, watching his face flush red with anger.

"Neither do you! All you've said is that she was a lesbian because she had a close relationship with her brother's wife," he replied, pointing his finger at me.

"What have you got against women Jarred," someone voiced from the other side of the room.

"Yeah, Jarred, what do you have against women?" I agreed with a smile, leaning over my desk, "or is it just lesbians?"

"I do not have a problem with anyone, I'm simply just trying to prove my point," he defended, "I just don't think any of these women were actually gay."

"Is that some form of projection?" I smirked.

"Y/N/N," my lecturer warned.

"I'm not gay," the guy opposite me replied.

"Babe, you said it, not me," I laughed.

"You think everyone's gay; I'm being realistic here. It's not statically possible for every single woman in history to have been a lesbian," he explained.

"Do you know where the clit is Jarred?" I asked.

"Okay, I think that's enough for today," my lecturer spoke loudly as Jarred flared his nostrils as a few of the other girls clapped their hands.

As everyone began packing their bags to leave class, my phone began ringing, my mother's name flashing across the screen and making my heart beat a little faster. Quickly ending the call, I put my phone in my pocket and slipped my headphones in, making my way toward Lizzie's lesson on the other side of the uni campus. I feel it's important to mention that December in Dublin tends to be pretty fucking cold, and I did not dress accordingly so as I walked over the crunchy iced over grass, my hands were shaking and my nose was running, a cold sensation tingling my fresh septum ring. Lizzie and I had both decided we would do Christmas together at her house as she didn't really have the access to go home, and I personally couldn't think of anything worse than spending another sad Christmas with my mum. Scarlet was going home for the holiday's in a week and a half with Emily and then was coming back to Ireland for new years as a friend of a friend was hosting a party which we would all apparently be attending.

*incoming call from Mother*

I exhaled shakily and pressed answer, slowing down my walking speed and waiting for her to initiate the conversation.

"Hey hunny," she voiced in her usual tone, not addressing the fact we hadn't really spoken for about three months.

"Hi," I replied, "everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to call and talk to you," she said coldly.

"Well, I'm quite busy, I'm at uni," I told her.

"Okay ... are you dating someone new?" she asked, obviously ignoring my attempt to shut off the conversation.

"Yeah, I am - Lizzie," I nodded.