Hey, Corrie, next year for Valentine’s Day why don’t you just kick me in the crotch and spit on my neck? I mean, really.
If you’d told me last spring when I wrote my first recap about this little lesbian storyline on this unfamiliar (to me) British soap that I would be crying over it on Valentine’s Day, I would have laughed in your face. I would have laughed in your face and also maybe pointed at you little bit. Possibly I would have hooted and/or hollered. But Jeepers H. Christmas, it just gets you, doesn’t it? It’s like, “Oh, this is actually kind of cute.” And then it’s all, “I can’t believe they’re exploring this really important topic.” And then, “Awwww.” And then, “Whoa! Shagging before the watershed!” And then, “Gasp!” And then, “Ha ha ha! Just put on your chicken costume and marry me already, Rosie.” And then, before you know it, you’re on your knees in front of your laptop crying out, “Oh my God, Sian! Please don’t go!”
So, Sophie is still shuffling around the house in bunny slippers and a candy floss dressing gown, eating cereal out of a two-gallon bucket and mumbling at the telly like your batty old aunt Mildred. Sally has never heard of a job called “professional TV recapper” so she keeps telling Sophie there’s no future in that lifestyle. Sian continues to do normal people things like, you know, showering and speaking in actual English instead of grunting and baring her teeth every time someone walks in the room. Just trying to model human behavior for her girlfriend.
By the time Sophie pulls it together and gets dressed and decides to try out this college thing she’s heard so much about, Sian has started thinking maybe she should go on holiday with her mum to meet her mum’s new boyfriend. And honestly, she just needs a break from the eternal fisticuffs going down at the Webster’s. Sophie sits down on The Feelings Bench with Sian and laughs it off at first: “Like you’d really leave me in my hour of need!” And then she gets Sally-level rage in Sally-amount of time: “You’re actually going to leave me in my hour of need!” Sian feels really horrible, but she’s exhausted too. And it’s only a holiday after all.
Remember the bus that used to pick Sian up and drop her off about ten times a day in Southport? Well, that damn thing is back, and it has come to take her away from Sophie. And here’s where things get unbearable. Sophie chases Sian into the night, crying and begging her not to go. And she’s so young. She looks so young. Like a little kid promising to be good, if she can just have one more chance. Sian cries too, wraps her up in the warmest, most affirming embrace, and promises she’ll be back soon. (“… on or near the day you fall from the roof. I promise.”)
The bus doors close and Sophie’s voice cracks. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says. And if you’re not tearing up right now just thinking about it, I don’t think I want to know you.
At home, Sophie finds a Valentine’s Day card in her coat pocket. It’s from her parents: “Sorry for being such enormous tools. We still love you very much and have agreed to act like grown-ups so we don’t scar you for the rest of your gorgeous life.” Just kidding! Kevin and Sally are still the worst! The card is from Sian: “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”
The next morning, Sophie is reading the card over and over. When Sally comes in and sees that Sophie has finally, flimsily reconstructed a little bubble of happiness around herself, she walks over, unsheathes a machete, and pops! it. Then she opens up multiple holdalls full of her very own relationship baggage and dumps it all over her kid: “First love doesn’t last, you fool!” she says, and laughs manically. “My marriage fell apart and so will your relationship with your girlfriend because you’re too young for it to be legitimately important!”
And then she bounces up out of there to go bone Rosie’s former agent.
Sophie reaches into her pocket and finds another Valentine’s Day card. And this one is from me:
Never listen to people who says “first love” with a patronizing glint in their eyes. They’ll say it can’t last. They’ll say it’s not real. They’ll say that it is impossible. When what they really mean is, “I have lost my magic.” First love, Sophie Webster, is magic. And let me tell you what my favorite author says about that: “Magic is always impossible. It begins with the impossible and ends with the impossible and is impossible in between. That is why it is magic.”
Happy Valentine’s Day, Muff-Monkey. Don’t let the Muggles get you down.
(Seriously, though, get up and go to school.)