#pharon

The dressing room had finally been restored to its usual state of peace and calm. Ironically enough, the usual peace that the dressing room could call normal was a state of absolute chaos, with clothing and makeup strewn all over the place, and three drunk girls giggling in front of mirrors. It was worth remembering that the so-called dressing room was actually a small room once used as a storage cupboard behind the stage, with a couple of mirrors and three screens to give them a little privacy in case someone walked in.

For the past few shows, the mood in the makeshift dressing room had been quite sombre. Sharon had been quieter, a little more closed off, her performances more lacklustre than usual. She hadn’t realized what an effect she’d had on the room, but now, in her cheerier mood, things had returned to normal.

Raja, who was still half-naked but with a full face of makeup on, was doing poor karaoke into a makeup brush as Jinkx looked on, fully dressed with half an eyebrow painted on and not much else. Somehow, at the sight of her friends being uplifted by her own better mood, Sharon felt brighter. She laughed at their antics, teasing her hair up with a comb and trying not to choke on the hairspray fumes.

“Jesus fuck, this place needs windows.” She coughed. “Does this look done?”

Raja stopped singing to inspect her friend’s hair. “Yeah, it’s done. Special effort tonight? Any reason? Dick, maybe?”

Sharon gasped, affronted. “Raja! I’m debuting a brand new look for a brand new song, if you must know. It’s a new era.”

Nodding, Jinkx swung around in her chair, now with a second eyebrow. “A new Sharon who won’t take anybody’s shit and doesn’t cry over boys.”

“Hear, hear!” Raja raised her wine glass, ignoring the fact that it was empty. “Tonight is gonna be great.”

If you insist, Sharon thought to herself, before she could stop it. Bad Sharon. You need a better mental attitude than that. 

It was going to be a good night. So what if she had been left reeling by Justin? He was gone now, probably married or safely tucked up in his fiancée’s arms. There was nothing Sharon could do about that besides feel heartbroken. She was strong - her friends had known it all along. Tonight was about her, and the girls, and not a single boy was going to mess up her life again. 

If anything, she had learnt from them… right? Justin, sweet, deceptive Justin, had taught her about trust and heartbreak. Jaremi had taught her that maybe no-strings-attached didn’t work for her, considering she still had to quell the urge to become affectionate towards him. Overall, it had been bad, but she was learning. 

Did that mean she was going to make the same mistake with Willam?

Maybe. 

He was attractive, after all - in a mischievous way, all floppy blonde hair and too-white teeth and cocked eyebrows. His demeanor was as if the world had been created just for him, and he could do whatever he liked with it. Sharon admired his confidence. Knowing he was at the taverna, waiting for them to come on stage, gave her a little thrill. 

Don’t do it again, Sharon. Don’t make the same mistake three times.

There was a pretty good turnout in the taverna that evening; Maria had clearly been around all day, hollering about the show. The residents of the island were fond of their few entertainment sources, especially The Supermodels. There hadn’t been any time to make posters as they normally would, but it seemed word of mouth had been enough. Every table was full, and some people were standing, holding their drinks and chatting as they eagerly awaited the show.

Sharon’s eyes found Willam immediately as they stepped on stage, assuming their usual positions. He was sat close to the old woman who had been with him at church, one arm lazily draped over the back of her chair. The excitement of performing a new song again, coupled with the adrenaline rush of feeling Willam’s gaze on her body, made Sharon feel utterly short of breath. Somehow she knew this would be one of her most explosive performances yet.

The music started. A few people gasped in excitement.

“Last night, I was taking a walk along the river, and I saw him together with a young girl…”

The inevitable nervousness dissipated as Sharon heard Jinkx joining in, her voice uniquely strong and powerful, followed by Raja’s deep, melodious harmony. Part of her wished that the three of them could stay on the island forever, making a living out of performing, forever remaining in the little safety bubble of music. It made her almost angry - yes, angry - that they would be leaving her too.

For once, she didn’t veer away from that thought, instead channelling her anger into the song. It was essentially a fuck you to how easily she had fallen, and how easy it was to do the same thing again (and again.) It was better to let it out now, on stage with people dancing and cheering, than to consign it into passive aggressive letters for the next few months.

Just this one last time, Sharon let herself wallow in her feelings as she sang. Justin had left her and it fucking hurt. Jaremi was just using her because she was letting him. Her own mother had slapped her time and time again, unable to stand her daughter’s failures. Her two best friends - her two only friends - would be gone in a matter of weeks, leaving her alone. It was all worth being angry over.

“You’ll think you’re in paradise…”

As the song drew to an end, Sharon found herself flooded with a mixture of emotions, her mood swinging suddenly from angry to relieved, grateful and beyond ecstatic. She clung to Jinkx and Raja, out of breath and sweaty, as the appreciative cheering and clapping rewarded them for their efforts.

“God, I love you two.” Sharon whispered, completely breathless. Jinkx kissed her cheek, and Raja pulled them into a tighter embrace.

The three of them stayed like that, holding onto one another as if they were going to collapse, until the collective euphoria from the music had died down. The patrons went back to their drinks and conversations, smiling at the girls as they went past, some offering kind words. At the first attractive man, Raja slipped away to flirt.

“Ah, your blonde is here.” Jinkx grinned, pointing over to Willam as though Sharon hadn’t noticed. “Go on, go secure your rebound boy. I’ll be here scouring for the lesbians, so I’ll be fine.”

She patted Sharon on the shoulder, her face a picture of playfulness. “Oh, her outfit is hideous. I bet she’s gay. See you later!”

The universe was practically forcing it to happen. There was definitely no getting away from Willam, that was for sure. It seemed written into the fucking stars. At least this time, Sharon reasoned with herself, she knew exactly what her mistake was. It was the universe’s fault that she was making it.

Willam patted the spare seat next to him. Coincidentally, he had ordered a drink for his great grandmother Pat, and she didn’t like it, but it just so happened to be Sharon’s favourite, so she just had to sit and drink it. It was just courtesy, after all. Goddamned universe, trying to be subtle.

“Sharon, I love you in this outfit. It’s very tight.” Was his opening line, as he pushed the drink towards her.

Thankfully, she caught it deftly before it could be swept off the table. “Thanks… It’s supposed to be.”

Pat laughed. “I like this one! I wish I could’ve worn these kind of things, back in my day. Very chic!”

“Oh, so you’re both fashionistas?” Sharon asked, sipping her drink. “Gotta love that. Anyway, I can’t stay long, but…” She grinned. “I’ll finish this first. I gotta make sure my ride home doesn’t leave me.”

Willam placed a hand on her thigh. Sharon tried not to shiver.

“You could always stay with me. Spend the night.”

Emboldened by the stage high, Sharon cackled with laughter. “Oh, you wish! Nah, I’m in deep shit. I majorly pissed off my mom.”

“The church bitch.” Pat said darkly. Her sinister tone caught both Sharon and Willam unawares, sending them both into a fit of laughter that somehow ended with the two of them leaning on each other for support. Willam was warm. She could feel muscles under his shirt. Shake it off, Sharon.

“Oh, everyone at that place fucking loves her, but I don’t.” Pat continued. “She’s a nasty bitch if I ever saw one.”

There was something strangely hilarious about such an old woman, shrivelled into her early nineties, being so catty. Sharon agreed wholeheartedly with every word that came out of her little puckered mouth. She had the same bright white smile as Willam, even at her age, which made her incredibly endearing.

“She always calls me by my proper name, too. Cow. I tell everyone I’m Pat, and she goes Patricia in her smug little voice that she has. Ghastly woman. I’m sorry you have her as a mother.”

Sharon raised her glass for a cheers. “I’m sorry I have her as a mother too,” She laughed, clinking glasses with Pat. Willam leant over and pushed Pat’s glass away from her, smile lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “Maybe we should change your name to Trixie.”

Pat laughed. “Ha! I’m far too old for a young girl’s name like that. I bet your mother would call it a whore name. Maybe I will, out of spite.”

“I think you’ve had enough, Granny Pat. Two vodkas is your limit, we all know what happened at Christmas.”

He mimed some horrific dancing as Sharon finished her drink, trying not to splutter it everywhere. Pat, to her credit, was completely unembarrassed - if anything, there was a twinkle of amusement in her eye.

Sharon gathered the now-empty glasses towards the front of the table as Willam helped Pat up, wrapping an arm round her to lead her out. Between the two of them, it was easy to manoeuver an elderly lady towards the exit, and easier still to talk once they were outside. The pavilion outside the taverna and the shore below them both seemed deserted, the island residents either packed into the taverna, or tucked up into their beds. The sun was just starting to dip beneath the ocean.

“You sure you’re not coming with us?” Willam offered again. “I have several ulterior motives lined up, but I’m a respectful man, so sleeping is one of them.”

Sharon giggled. “I’m okay, honestly. I’m weirdly tired, I just want to go home and sleep for forever. But thank you.”

Willam saluted. “Any time, any time at all. See ya tomorrow, probably.”

He waited until Sharon had started to make her descent to the shore before he began helping Pat up to wherever her home was. Sharon could hear him singing, loudly parodying “Look into her angel thighs, one lick and you’re hypnotized…” for at least half of her journey down. She chuckled to herself, resigning herself to the fact that her next run-in with him would probably end the way most of her male encounters did these days - with a throaty gasp.

-

Down at the docks, Sharon sat on the very edge of the pier, letting her feet dangle into the gentle waves. Jaremi’s boat was nowhere to be seen, but he was often late. Most likely he was wrapped up with some girl, having lost track of time. He would squeeze Sharon into his embrace, which she would gladly fall into, and then she would smell the girl’s perfume all over him.

The sex was as present as ever, but as Sharon grew more disconnected, Jaremi seemed to grow more distant. She suspected that Jaremi was bored of her, and the variety of perfumes he smelt of only served to prove her theory. She just pretended it didn’t sting, and stared out at the ocean until it was time to go home.

Sharon watched as the sun sunk lower and lower, feeling the air grow chilly around her. It wasn’t often that the island felt cold, and at such an inauspicious time she was thankless for the breeze. An hour passed, and she pulled her feet out of the now freezing water, curling into a ball and shivering a little.

She waited. The waves got rougher.

A second hour passed. Not a single wave went undisturbed by the motion of a boat.

Naively, or perhaps stupidly, Sharon clung to the hope that Jaremi just hadn’t realized the time. He knew that he always collected Sharon, to sail her home before going off to do whatever he did in the small hours of the night. She relied on him for that. It was their unspoken deal. He wouldn’t just leave her sit on the pier and freeze all night, would he?

Her teeth chattered. She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, rubbing ineffectually at her frozen arms and legs to try and get a little bit of warmth.

Finally, after a few more minutes of waiting, a person appeared, traipsing along the sand. She didn’t recognise the woman other than knowing her as one of the locals, and it was a relief just to see another person after so long staring at sea and sky.

“Hi, sorry… Have you seen Jaremi? Carey, the explorer? I’ve been waiting for him all night.” She rubbed at her arms once again, and felt no improvement.

The woman frowned. “You mean no one told you?”

Sharon’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach. “What?”

“He’s gone.” She said bluntly. “Sailed off this morning, maybe three or four. Back to his travelling again.”

Though it was difficult, Sharon tried not to look as though she felt like she’d been hit by a bus. She swallowed the lump in her throat, ignoring how strained her voice sounded. “O-Oh. Okay. No problem.”

Huge problem.

The woman went on her way, offering a weakly sympathetic smile before getting further and further away along the beach. 

For another half an hour, Sharon simply sat and continued to watch the sea, reeling from the shock of his sudden departure. As it grew colder, she realized that something had to be done, lest she freeze in the night out on the dock. She tried to consider her options, now that she was essentially stranded.

There were no more boats running from the island to the mainland; it was too late now. There wouldn’t be another until six the following morning, and that was far too long to wait.

She could sleep in the little cabin on the shore, but that wasn’t ideal. It was a rough night, the sea beginning to churn angrily as it got colder. The cabins weren’t exactly built to be safe in that kind of weather, and she’d spend the night terrified and cold in the bed, fearing that the cabin might collapse on her. Of course, it didn’t help that her cabin was where she had lost her virginity to Justin, who was no longer keeping her safe…

The shack at the top of the island was the safest bet she had, but Sharon ruled that one out too. For some reason, she had been struck with a wave of exhaustion that had burrowed right into her bones. Even now, petrified and bitterly cold, she felt on the verge of falling asleep. It was unusual for her - normally she was a bit of an insomniac, able to stay awake for hours on end. She knew that tonight especially, given how tired she was, that she would never be able to drag herself up to the top.

That left… nothing. 

Whether it was the cold, the fear, or something else entirely, Sharon felt sick. Before she could even think, the urge became too overwhelming, and she leant over the edge of the pier to vomit - just as a hand tapped her shoulder.

When she was done, she sniffed in embarrassment and turned to see who had tapped her. To her surprise, Willam was stood behind her, his brow furrowed in concern and confusion. He looked as though he was being ripped apart by the extreme change in weather, his shirt whipping in the gale.

“Are you okay? It’s fucking freezing out here!” He shouted over the wind. Sharon hadn’t realized how ferociously it had picked up, but her hair was flapping wildly around her face. “I thought you said you had a ride?”

Wordlessly, Sharon took Willam’s outstretched hand and managed to pull herself up, shivering violently. He pulled her close, opening up his coat to try and squeeze her into it along with him. It was a sweet gesture, even if the coat was as cold as Sharon herself. She appreciated the kindness.

“I-I did!” Sharon tried, her throat hoarse. “Turns out he l-left this morning and didn’t t-tell me. I need to g-get home!”

Willam began stroking her hair, murmuring quiet words of comfort. Although the wind tore the words away before Sharon could hear them, just the soothing tone of his voice was enough to help calm her panic. Everything was going to be okay. Even if her mom was going to go insane, everything would be alright for now. Willam was going to help her.

“I have a boat, okay?” Willam said, louder so he could be heard. “We’ll get you home, it’s gonna be alright. Stay with me, you’re okay.”

-

Everything else was a blur. Sharon, hunched and shivering but now draped in Willam’s coat, focused on making sure she wasn’t going to be sick again as she was bundled around. A man she didn’t recognise was untying Willam’s boat, and Willam himself was gently leading her inside. She couldn’t seem to take any of it in.

Thank the fucking lord for the interior of the boat. It was much grander than Jaremi’s, and warmer - that was all Sharon cared about. She allowed herself to be tucked up, slowly given water to sip, and warmed in one of the beds. Willam didn’t leave her side for a moment.

As the boat began to sail out, Willam sat down and smiled softly. “Goddammit, Sharon. I’m not supposed to show you my soft side yet. You’re supposed to think I’m effortlessly cool and hilarious first. Then I seduce you, we fuck and then I show you my soft side. Then, of course, I find out you’re far too much for me to handle and our tragic love affair ends there.”

He smiled again as Sharon laughed. “But seriously. You can have anything you need from me, I’ve got you. You ever need a lift home, or somewhere to stay, I got your back. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Starting to feel better, Sharon handed Willam his coat back and shifted into a sitting position, her legs covered by a thick blanket. He took the coat and balled it up, throwing it as far as he could just to make her laugh again. Her stomach settled, Sharon obliged.

“You have a great laugh. I could fall in love with that laugh.”

“I’d be careful. I’m a minefield.” Sharon told him, grinning. “You heard the song tonight. You know I’ve got baggage.”

Willam nodded. “Is the asshole who left you here the asshole in the song?”

Sharon shook her head.

“Yikes. You really have been fucked over.” Willam cringed. “Anything I can do to help?”

Don’t do it, Sharon. Don’t cave. Don’t make the same fucking mistake again, you know it’s wrong. Don’t give in.

“Get your shirt off and get over here.”

Goddammit, universe.

-

When Sharon woke up, she felt warm. It was a comfortable, familiar kind of warm - the kind of warmth that comes from the body of a lover, cuddling up close. As her foggy vision began to sharpen, she zeroed in on the handsome face of Willam, just above her. She was nestled into his chest, still naked, apparently having grown fond of him in her slumber. Making no effort to move, she closed her eyes once again, willing sleep to find her.

“I know you’re awake.” Came Willam’s voice, gruff with sleep.

Sharon didn’t react. “That’s nice.”

He laughed, his bronze chest juddering up and down, and snaked an arm around her, shifting her even closer than before. Sharon sighed contentedly and let him.

“Didn’t you say your mom was gonna be super mad at you?”

“She always is,” Sharon dismissed sleepily. “It’s not like it matters.”

Contrary to her expectations, spending the night with Willam hadn’t made Sharon’s heart tighten with that familiar, aching lust. If anything, she just felt close to him - the same way she felt after spilling her emotions to Raja or Jinkx. He felt safe, trustworthy even. He didn’t set her on fire like Justin had.

Nobody else ever could.

“Alright…” Willam drawled lazily. “So if I hop into the shower, with the premium deluxe pressure and more than enough room for another person, she wouldn’t mind if you joined me?”

Sharon smiled. “She wouldn’t ever have to know…”

She sat up and began to laugh slightly. “What the fuck is premium deluxe pressure?”

“Come find out.”

-

For most of the following week, as Raja and Jinkx grew busier with preparing for their rapidly-encroaching departure, Sharon found herself spending her time with Willam and his charismatic grandma. It was nice to be around a family that just seemed normal - not overly wrapped up in themselves and their romance, as was the case with Raja’s parents. Pat was old and could move very little, but she swore and drank like a sailor, and it made for some interesting times. Willam, of course, helped.

It seemed more than anything that, despite their frequent rendez-vous, Willam was becoming a close friend. Their nature was more like a friendship than anything else - the sexual chemistry masked by their natural rapport. It was as if they’d been friends.

“It’s been a fucking nightmare trying to find support here, honestly.” Pat was saying, a glass of brandy sitting on the table before her. “Nobody wants to help a sweet little old lady these days.”

Willam snorted. “Sweet. Oh, what delusion.”

Sharon laughed. “Shut up! Let her be old and sad!”

Pat raised her glass in solidarity, her hands trembling but her resolve firm. Willam downed his as though it was a shot and shrugged.

“Why don’t you just die? Cheaper and easier for everyone involved, including you.” He suggested.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Pat replied dryly, sending them both into fits of laughter. “Not for me. I’ll pay a ton if it means someone will come and fuckin’ help me that isn’t you, Bill.”

For as much as they were joking, Sharon sympathised with the old lady. She loved the island more than anything else in her life - she couldn’t imagine life without it. A life unable to look out across its views, taking in the beach and the fresh sea-salt air; that wasn’t a life at all, really. She hoped somebody would be available to come and care for Pat.

As Willam got up, gathering their glasses and leaving the room, Pat turned on Sharon. There was a glimmer in her eye, a kindly smile on her face. Even though she had only met her just a week ago, Sharon felt insanely grateful for her presence in her tumultuous life.

“He’s off next week, I’m sure he told you. Chasing his fortune in LA. He’ll miss you, of course.”

Sharon nodded. “I’m sure I’ll miss him too.”

The conversation had happened the night before, as they lay naked on top of one another - although Sharon left that detail out of her mind when she was with Pat. Willam, never one to hide anything, had come clean about his time on the island.

“I had to make sure she was okay. We were hoping to find someone to care for her, but if she has to go into assisted living then that’s that.” He held Sharon close. “It’s a shame, though.”

“Yeah…” Sharon agreed, not sure what else to say. “She seems like such a free spirit.”

Willam emitted his seal-laugh, the one that always made Sharon crack up. “She likes free spirits, I know that for certain. But yeah - I’ll be leaving soon. Five days.”

He stretched. “You have five days to enjoy this luscious body of mine before I go back to LA. I’m an actor over there.”

At least she had a little bit of a warning. Unlike Justin, who she was sure might’ve stayed, or Jaremi, who had left without a second thought, Willam had given her time. He was the first to think that far ahead, she assumed.

Not wanting her message to be misconstrued, Sharon gently tugged the duvet covers, trying to preserve some of her modesty before she spoke. She had always found it difficult to articulate anything just after sex, so it took her a little while to think of what she wanted to say.

“Look… Willam… without sitting here and talking about all the different ways my heart has been broken recently, I just want to say this. My friends are leaving soon and I don’t want everything to fall apart and leave me here missing you. So… can we not do a goodbye?”

She chewed her lip. “I mean, I’ll say goodbye to you. We can hug and I’ll see you off and whatever, that’s fine. But I don’t want any of the promises to keep in touch or visit, none of that awkward hanging on to something that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know if I meant anything to you, or how much. I just want it to be over when it’s over, and we both know that it’s gonna be over. Is that- is that okay?”

Sharon expected that meeting his eyes would be awkward. He would look at her like she was broken, some kind of delicate flower he needed to treat gently. In the worst case scenario, his eyes would be filled with pity.

She looked up. Willam was smiling - not kindly, not sympathetically - just normally. “Sure. No goodbyes here. Nada. None.”

“Alright. Okay. Good.”

Willam laughed. “You have a massive hickey right by your nipple. I can’t be serious anymore, that’s so funny. Look at it!”

It had gone better than she thought it would.

“I’ll be fine.” Sharon dismissed it. “I’m a big girl, I can cope without a boy.”

Pat clapped her wrinkled hands. “That’s it, sweetheart! Atta girl. A life without men in it does wonders for your complexion, anyway. You won’t get stress lines if you don’t have a walking stress, bugging you for orgasms every ten minutes.”

Sharon howled with laughter. She suspected that maybe Pat was right.

-

Sex and laughter. That was how Sharon summed up her final week with Willam.

They had sex, they laughed, they sang. It was a blur of mindless fun that meant nothing to either of them. The two of them had grown close, three including Pat, but Willam had to leave. It was okay. Sharon had had ample time to prepare to be properly alone, and she didn’t mind so much anymore.

At the dock was the last place she saw him. He was stood next to his boat, the very ship he had taken her on when she was cold and in need. It would be taking him to somewhere in the middle of Europe, where he would then catch a first class flight back to LA - with the same sunshine, but less paradisiacal whimsy. 

He was just standing there, looking pretty. Sharon crossed her arms.

“I guess this is goodbye?” Willam said, the cheeky grin on his face only highlighting just how clearly he remembered the post-coital promise he had made.

Sharon scowled. “Fuck off, Willam. I don’t do goodbyes. I’m an all or nothing kind of girl.”

Slowly becoming serious, Willam touched a bruise on his neck and softened. “Don’t I know it. So I’ll be seeing you?”

At Sharon’s raised eyebrow, he started to giggle. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I know. It’s over.”

“Yeah.” Sharon nodded. “Probably not. But for what it’s worth, have a nice life.”

He grinned. “You too. You deserve it. I mean that.”

Things were verging into dangerous territory. Sharon told him, in no uncertain terms, to shut up, and he did.

Then he was on the boat, waving.