NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY | updates every monday

48: sex chemicals

            Laughing, I tuck the family portrait into its place in the stack. Joe drops onto the bed and I continue to look through the pages alone, too immersed to stop halfway down memory lane.

Too immersed to catch my idiot tongue. 'D'you want kids?'

Warning: Code "casual" breached. Take it back!

But Joe don't seem to mind. She shrugs. Her upper body is out of my sight but the sound of the movement rubs against my duvet. 'I think for me it's like a "if it happens, it happens—if it doesn't, it doesn't" thing.'

'Me too.' I nod, only to continue, 'I mean, I definitely want kids in my life but I'm not particularly fussed about them being my kids. I'd be just as fulfilled helping with my friends' kids or fostering or adopting. I'd like to foster, I think. Though I probably wouldn't be that good at it.'

Which is to say I'd be fucking shit it at it if my attempt with Cece is owt to judge by.

'I think you'd be good at it.'

I shrug.

'Do you want to get married?' Joe asks.

'Yeah. No. I mean...' Grimacing, I gather Cece's drawings back into the right order as I try to explain. 'I know it's not en vogue cause "it's just a piece of paper" and that, but I reckon the idea of celebrating your love for someone is dead beautiful. It's not like "if you're not married, it's not a proper relationship" or owt cause that's ridiculous. But I just imagine being able to call someone "my wife"—I'd giggle every time. Realistically speaking, I'm poor and weddings are expensive.'

Realistically speaking, who the fuck would marry me?

I close the plastic box of drawings and wheel it back under the bed. I watch Joe over my shoulder and she looks up at me.

'I think I was super lucky in the parent department,' she says. 'They were kind of absent, to be honest. At least for me and Jaz—you know, standard middle child syndrome. Maybe they treated us like adults a little too early cause sometimes it's nice to just get help—not just financially. They always say "you need money, don't you?" and they always give it, but I don't want money. I want them to teach me so I can do things by myself.

'All that said, they did always respect us as independent people who can make their own decisions. And I mostly felt safe and loved, I think.

'It's weird though. My grandad is queer and has been in a relationship with a man since before I was born and Jaz is trans and my parents pay for all her GAC. But then our church is insanely queerphobic. And yet, they'd force us all to go every Sunday when we were kids—and I mean force.

'How can they be so laissez faire "do what you want" about everything but then we have to go to church and we have to go to that church?'

'That awful. I'm sorry.'

'Yeah, it sucks. I'd love to be able to say that my relationship with God is just between me and Them and that the Bible was written by men and the homophobes in church are flawed people, but... It's hard. Cause these are "God's people" and let's say they are all interpreting the text wrong, well why is God fine with people using Their word like that then?'

She waves a dismissing hand. 'But you don't want to listen to my religious angst.'

'I do.' Despite the voice yelling at the back of my mind—Casual! Casual! This is casual!—I tangle my gaze with Joe's shocked stare. 'I wanna listen to anything you tell me.'