For She Was Good

Christmas had always been Tom’s least favourite time of the year. Seeing all the happy families being happier, all the happy kids being happier, only made him sadder. When your father is an abusive piece of shit and your mom spends her days with the lights off in her bedroom, holidays are never fun. His father insisted on decorating anyway - more lights, more ornaments, a bigger tree each year - not for joy, but for show. Nothing childlike was allowed on the branches, nothing imperfect. The same went for gifts. Tom and his brother always received the most expensive toys, chosen not for them but to inspire envy. When Tom was nine, he wrote a letter asking for a little sister, hoping she might give him someone to love and care for. Instead, he unwrapped another RC car. But a month later, his parents brought Madeline home.

Ruby Lewis was a night worker. She was found dead in her kitchen, surrounded by a pool of blood. To this day, no one knows who killed her. The worst thing, however, was that her two- year-old daughter, Alline, was at home with her and had been there for two days between her mother’s death and the discovery of her body. She had no family, and Ruby had no one besides her. When the church heard the news, Paul preached a brief prayer for the child and moved on. Still, people talked. Someone should help her. Their pastor seemed the obvious choice. The following Sunday, Paul encouraged the congregation to donate clothes and toys. But soon it became clear that people expected something bigger. So he stepped in. Without consulting his wife, without facing any real checks - he was the pastor, after all - he arranged to take the child home. He buckled her into the back seat of his car and gave her a new, whiter, name: Madeline. Tom and David waited at the window the day she arrived. Madeline was not the sister Tom had imagined. She wasn’t a baby, and she was black. She cried for days, soothed only by the alphabet song. If I hear it again, I swear Paul raged one morning, his wife cradling the daughter she never wanted in her arms. Things didn’t get better with time. Their mother struggled. Their father grew angrier. His temper didn’t divide among the children; it multiplied. Then, two years after the adoption, Amelia left. She didn’t say goodbye, she didn’t leave a note. She put together a small portion of her belongings and, in the middle of the night, took a bus to North Carolina. The Newmans only knew this from the police attempt at tracking her down when Paul reported her missing. But she told the agents she didn’t want to be found. So Madeline lost her mother for a second time.

Gymnasts are short. They have small hips and a linear build. There is a reason for all of this – the smaller they are, the smaller their moment of inertia, which means it takes less force for them to move their bodies in a spin, a leap, a backflip. She doesn’t have the body for this Madeline’s coach kept telling her father, maybe she could try tennis. But there was nothing he could have said to make Paul change his mind: his daughter would become a professional gymnast. Stick-bug is what everyone called Madeline at practice. She didn’t mind it – it made her special. There was another special girl in the group, her name was Grace Cheng. Madeline had never seen anyone quite like her, not only because she was the first Asian person she’d ever met. Grace was always the first to learn a new exercise, the best at executing an old one. She was who everyone else wanted to be and she knew it. The way she moved her hands when she talked, the way she bit her tongue when she laughed, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. When their coach asked her to demonstrate this or that routine, Madeline would sit first-row on the floor, legs crossed and head in her hands. She was mesmerized by Grace’s agile body.

When they had regional or state competitions, Madeline would always make sure to be sitting opposite to Grace on the minibus, so she could look at her in all her glory. Madeline didn’t even like gymnastics – after all, she didn’t have the right body for it – but she stayed for her, for Grace. When they ran around naked in the changing rooms, she couldn’t help but stare at Grace’s tiny, perfect body, at her flat chest and long, pitch black hair. When someone else would pass by, she would lower her eyes and pretend to be cleaning her hands from the chalk. At ten, Madeline was still too tall for gymnastics and Grace was still the best in class. They had a competition upstate and the coach decided to have them sleep in an hotel overnight. The girls were split into groups of four to share a room. Madeline prayed for days to end up in the same bed as Grace – and it worked. She was the youngest in the group, Grace was the oldest. In a couple of years she would go into elite level and move to Philly. That night the coach put them to bed earlier than usual. You need to be well-rested for tomorrow he said, turning off the light. But as soon as he went back to his room and locked the door behind him, all the girls poured in the hotel corridors. All except two. I can’t sleep Grace stated staring at the ceiling. Madeline wasn’t sure if she was expecting an answer or just thinking out loud. Then Grace turned on her side and looked straight into her eyes. Why do you do this? You’re no good at it. Madeline’s face turned red. Was that what Grace thought of her? That she was a talentless idiot who insisted on doing a sport she couldn’t stand a chance at. If only she could tell her the reason she hadn’t given up yet. I admire you, you know? Not feeling the pressure to be the best. It was true, Madeline didn’t feel that kind of pressure. Every time she got back from a competition and confessed her father that, once again, she had not even ranked, he would scream at her and hit her – but she didn’t care. She learned not to. Maybe she didn’t feel the pressure of having to be the best, but she definitely felt something else. She loved women, just like her brothers did, but she couldn’t tell anyone. What would happen if her dad found out?

After that night at the hotel, when Grace Cheng made her feel more of a loser than her father ever did, Madeline quit gymnastics. Paul yelled, and kicked, and punched, but there was nothing he could have said to make Madeline change her mind: she would not become a professional gymnast. In the following years, she would keep discovering her sexuality. And the more she discovered, the more she felt different from anyone she knew. At fifteen she kissed a boy for the first time – worst experience of her life. At sixteen she gave a blowjob for the first time – worst experience of her life. At seventeen she had sex with a boy for the first time – worst experience of her life. At eighteen, when she moved out to college, she met a girl just like her. Her name was Simone Torche. She was the same weight as Madeline, the same height as Madeline, the same age as Madeline. She was black like Madeline and was born in November like Madeline. She studied psychology like Madeline. She was gay like Madeline. But unlike Madeline, she had come out when she was fourteen. It was a common friend who introduced them. Madeline had never felt so strong about someone since Grace Chen. Simone asked her to dinner that same night. They went to an Italian restaurant not too far from their dorms. They ate pasta with nettles and chocolate mousse and kissed passionately under the light of the campus lampposts. It was the best experience of Madeline’s life.

The next day she called Tom. He was drunk and annoyed – not with Madeline but with life. Since his breakup with Theo he had not been the same. But what happened really couldn’t wait. I kissed a girl she said happy as a clam. So you’re gay now? He didn’t seem too excited.

Madeline knew it was nothing personal, but she was hurt nonetheless. You’ve been with guys before. There was no point in trying to explain. Have a good day she said, now more annoyed than him. She called David. I kissed a girl she said. Have you told dad? He asked. Madeline had never felt so lonely. She was finally herself and no one seemed to care. She had just opened up to the two most important people in her life, and she got nothing from them. Have you told dad? How could she? Her father already hated her - he hated all of his children. She couldn’t even imagine what coming out to him could have looked like. Would he have screamed? Would he have hit her, like when she was younger? Would he have kicked her out of the house? Cut her college tuition? Her monthly allowance? What would she have done then? Where would she have gone? Then the Christmas holidays came. By this point she and Simone were in a serious relationship, or at least that was what they told themselves. They texted nonstop. Can you put your phone down for a minute? Paul asked - demanded - one night at the dinner table. Thomas – that’s what he wanted to be called now – started laughing. Who are you talking to? Your girlfriend? David dropped his fork. Madeline hated drunk Thomas. Her dad stared at her for a while. Is he joking? Madeline froze. Madeline, her father repeated, is your brother joking? Madeline tried to say no but no sound came out of her mouth. So she shook her head. I see, Paul said. One of my children is a drunkard, and another one is gay. He cleaned his mouth with a napkin. Then he moved his gaze back to his plate and started cutting his steak. You can do whatever you want with your lives. I’m not gonna stop you. I can’t. But I’ll have none of that in my town. He ate a piece of meat. He chewed it loudly but elegantly. His children hung from his every word. When you’re in West Chester you’re the respectable children of a respectable pastor. Full stop.

Madeline was the only one of the Newman’s siblings to stay in West Chester. After their father’s trial things had changed. As the children of the pastor and the crazy lady who abandoned her family, they used to be respected and commiserated and supported by everyone. But now they were avoided like the plague – no one considering that they were the most hurt by that situation. Two months after the trial, David took the decision to move to their mother’s hometown in Ohio. They still had some family there – an uncle and two cousins – and most didn’t know who they were, who their father was. Moving was not a decision that David took lightly. He always thought he would raise his children in West Chester, see them go to the same school he went to and, yes, take them to the church his father used to lead at. But people had stopped buying from his wife’s flower shop and he hadn’t gotten a client in forever. Who would want to be represented by the son of a pedophile?

Things were not different for Madeline – no one wanted a pedophile’s daughter as their shrink. After she graduated, she found a research position at Penn State. She would drive two hours every morning and two hours every evening, back and forth from West Chester to Philly. It wasn’t the life she had dreamed of but it was an ok life. Why do this to yourself her brother had asked her. Truth was, she felt like her father owed her that. He owed her that house, he owed her the quiet and problem free life he had promised her when he adopted her. She wasn’t supposed to be in that situation. She was supposed to still be with her birth mother, not an orphan of three parents. I can’t give in she said I won’t let him take that away too. As much as she fought, as much as she tried to make a name for herself and remind everyone that she was as much of a victim as everyone else, Madeline struggled a lot there in West Chester. She started taking massive doses of benzodiazepines, diluting her pain one Ativan drop at a time. When she was twenty-five, she had a mental breakdown and was forced to take some time off work. It was then that she and Theo got close. She was one of the few people in town who was still kind to her, who still cared. Growing up, Madeline had always admired Theo – her confidence, her strength. As far as she was concerned, it was Theo who wore the pants in her relationship with Tom. How she wished she had a quarter of Theo’s determination. But Theo wasn’t only a strong woman. She was also the most compassionate, thoughtful person Madeline had ever known. Haven’t seen you around much – everything ok? she texted. The next day she knocked at Madeline’s door. She was wearing a baggy petrol blue jumper and bore a pan of bread pudding – her favourite dessert. Madeline had never noticed how short she was. This will make you feel better she said heading straight to the kitchen. She took two plates from the cabinets, two forks from the drawer. She checked the freezer for some ice cream. Madeline was taken aback by the easiness she moved around the house with, like it was her own. She had spent her whole teenage-hood there after all. Before she knew it, they were sitting on the couch, eating freshly baked bread pudding with caramel ice cream. I like vanilla more, but this will do Theo had commented, scooping it onto the plates. They didn’t talk much that day. Madeline put up a reality show and Theo watched it with her until she fell asleep. Then she put a blanket over her, turned off the TV and left. Didn’t want to wake you up - see you tomorrow she wrote on a napkin. The next day she got there at the same time. And the day after that, and the one after that. She would bring groceries and clean the house, sit with Madeline and watch trash TV with her. One day she convinced her to shower and go to the store with her. I know it’s hard she said, rummaging through Madeline’s drawers for clean clothes. Will you help me? Madeline asked. In the bathroom, Theo filled the tab with hot water. She helped Madeline take off her t-shirt and the sweatpants she had been wearing for days. She held her hands while she entered the bath and rubbed her back with foamy soap.

Madeline had never met someone who had lost as much as she had. Not even her brothers could understand the pain she had been experiencing since their father confessed. Now, sitting on her bathroom floor, Theo had opened up to her, told her all about her family – her twin sister, who died at birth, her dad and her brother, who both died by suicide. It was just her and her mom at this point, and she was terrified by the idea to lose her as well. Then what? I can’t be alone she mumbled, holding back tears. I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be here for you and I’m only talking about myself she immediately added, shrugging off all the vulnerability had just shown. Just like her brother had done before, Madeline put her hand on Theo’s. She wanted to tell her that that was exactly what she needed. Someone to be true to her. She was sick of people treating her differently just because of her past or her present. She wanted to be treated like everyone else. She wanted to be like everyone else. Don’t apologize she said instead. Theo caressed her wet hair. Was it hard? Coming out, I mean. Madeline took a cloud of bubbles in her hand. She didn’t know what to say. It terrifies me Theo added. She got up and washed her hands. I’ll wait for you in the living room. Madeline had so many questions. How did she know she came out? Was she gay too? What about Thomas? She swore Theo had really loved him, not like she had loved her fake boyfriends. They took Theo’s car to the closest superstore. They got taco shells and ground beef and shredded cheese and Ortega sauce and tomatoes and lettuce and sour cream. We’ll have

a taco Thursday. While they were queueing at the self-checkouts, Madeline grabbed Theo’s wrist – maybe a little less kindly than she had intended. You can tell me anything, you know?

Thomas announced his visit on a cold October evening. He called Madeline - they rarely talked these days - and asked if she’d be home the following weekend. Yes, I’m home, she said. As if she were ever anywhere else. Why? Thomas told her about Stana, his new girlfriend. I think I’m going to marry her, Maddie. How she wanted to tell him that she, too, had found love. But how could she? She had stolen that love from him. And she knew it. She knew it all too well. Theo knew it too. When Thomas called, they were curled up on the sofa - Theo’s head resting on Madeline’s lap, Madeline’s fingers gliding through her hair. She put the phone on speaker, as she always did; she hated the feel of it against her ear. I was thinking of visiting you, Thomas said. You know, we haven’t seen each other in a while. Theo sat up. Fuck, she mouthed. She had moved in just two weeks before, after her mother’s condition had worsened enough for them to decide on a retirement home. Theo couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone in her childhood house. And she loved Madeline - she truly did - so why not stay? Madeline didn’t tell Thomas about Theo that night. Nor the next few days, as they texted and made plans. She wanted to - or maybe she didn’t - but the words wouldn’t come.

Theo cooked for them that Friday night: creamy polenta with mushrooms and thyme, and bread pudding, of course. When the bell rang, Madeline opened the door to find her brother smiling, a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand. Behind him stood a tall woman with honey- brown hair all the way down her back. Hi, the woman said, reaching her hand out. I’m Stana. Madeline took it between both of hers. I’m Madeline. Please, come in. Then everything happened too fast - too fast for Madeline to tell if it was minutes or seconds. Theo peeked from the kitchen doorway to say hello. Thomas froze. His eyes widened; he clutched his chest as if something inside him had burst. What - he was about to speak, to ask questions, but before he could, Stana slipped off her coat - beneath it, a tight merino sweater stretched over a small but unmistakable bump. What - Madeline looked from Stana to Thomas, from Thomas to Theo. Then silence fell, thick and heavy. Theo, Thomas said at last, I wasn’t expecting to see you here. He forced himself to smile. I wasn’t expecting to see you again, he added, muttering, unable to keep that thought to himself. Theo smiled herself, but her smile was genuine. Me neither. Her eyes found Madeline’s. Tell him, they said. For a moment, Madeline thought she might faint. The room seemed smaller, airless. Thomas stood in the doorway, still trying to breathe. Stana’s hand brushed his arm, uncertain. Madeline swallowed hard. Thomas, she said, Theo and I... She couldn’t finish the sentence. Theo cleaned her hands on a kitchen towel and stepped towards them. We’re together. No one moved. The house itself seemed to stop, waiting. Like, we’re a couple. Thomas blinked once, then twice, his mouth parting in disbelief. Theo reached for Madeline’s hand but didn’t touch it - not yet. Madeline turned to Stana, needing to look at someone who hadn’t known the before. And you? she asked. How far along are you? Then a timer in the kitchen went off. Oh, it must be the mushrooms. Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring the plates in a sec. So they sat at the table, Madeline, Thomas, and poor Stana, who was completely lost on what was happening. Then Theo came in with the food. She sat next to Madeline and smiled, again. Bon appétit. The polenta was nice and warm, the mushrooms’

perfume strong and earthy. No one spoke much. The clink of cutlery filled the silence where forgiveness should have been.

When Madeline woke up that night, she reached her arm back, to touch Theo’s. But Theo wasn’t there. Madeline was still too sleepy to even process that. She didn’t ask herself any questions. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. She needed to pee. She stood up, walked to the bedroom’s door, opened the door, walked to the bathroom, walked into the bathroom, closed the door behind her. She peed. She washed her hands, opened the bathroom door, walked to the bedroom. But before walking into the bedroom, she heard voices coming from downstairs. She rubbed her eyes, again. She walked towards the stairs. She took a couple of steps down. The voices were Thomas’ and Theo’s. Madeline was still too sleepy, but she was awake enough to realise they were drunk. She sat down halfway on the stairs, the dining room’s light drawing a thin yellow strip on the wall. The voices rose and fell, unsteady, softened by alcohol and memory. Thomas was telling one of his stories - he was so good at telling stories. Something about when they were teens, about him sneaking out of confirmation class to go cheer for Theo at her wrestling competition, about his father getting so mad he left him without dinner for a week. Theo laughed - that low, warm laugh that used to make Madeline jealous, but not tonight. Tonight it felt like it was where it belonged. In another life. They went on to talk about people Madeline didn’t know, places she had never been. She was seven years younger than Thomas, five years younger than Theo. Growing up, they didn’t go to the same school, they didn’t have the same friends, they didn’t play the same games. And now she felt like they were still kids, like Thomas and Theo lived in a world she couldn’t possibly be part of. Madeline hugged her knees to her chest and listened, not because she wanted to but because she couldn’t move. When Thomas’s voice began to slur, Theo told him to drink some water, and he mumbled something about how lucky she was to have found Maddie. Madeline stood up quietly, her legs a little numb from sitting too long. She walked back to bed, slipped under the covers, and turned toward the empty space beside her. The sheets were still warm. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

The next morning, Theo woke her up with a kiss on her cheek. Good morning, she smiled, and gave her another kiss. Despite everything, Theo always woke up on the right side of the bed. Madeline didn’t say good morning back. Not because she didn’t want to. She did. She wanted Theo to have a good morning, today and every other day, for the rest of her life. Theo, she said instead, do you still love him? Theo’s head tilted to one side. What do you mean? she asked, though she already knew. She heard Madeline’s steps that night, she felt her breath as she was sitting on the stairs, listening to her and Tom reminiscing about their love and laughing their asses off. Madeline looked at her - really looked at her - and didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The silence between them said enough. Theo’s eyes moved away from Madeline’s, then back. I do, she said finally, and there was something in her voice Madeline had never heard before. Guilt. I still love him. I always will. She paused. She reached for Madeline’s cheek, caressed it with the back of her hand. But I love you too, Maddie. I love you in a way that feels new, like I finally got it right. Madeline watched her mouth move, watched the sunlight gather on her shoulder, painting her skin a golden hue. She nodded. I know, she whispered. And it’s okay. You don’t have to stop loving him. You don’t have to stop anything. Madeline’s fingers were in Theo’s hair, slowly pulling her forehead toward hers. You can even fuck him, I don’t care. Theo giggled. As if. I love you, she said, meaning it more than ever. Madeline kissed her, moved her hand to her chest, right where her heart was. Marry me. Theo blinked, startled, then laughed - not a loud laugh, but the kind that comes with tears. Here? Like this? Madeline nodded, pressing her forehead against Theo’s. Like this, Madeline said. No ring. No witnesses. Just a promise. Theo kissed her again, slower this time, as if sealing something sacred. Then I promise, she whispered.

I'm Gaia, a 24 year old Italian living in London. I have studied Medical Innovation and Psychology at UCL, currently on a job hunt (hopefully towards the end of it). I started writing before I knew how to write (I dictated stories to my mom who would write them down for me). I've published my first novel "Lontani Tutti" in 2021, and I've written three original plays for UCL Drama Society during my time at uni. My second novel "Rose di Sale" should be available soon-ish.