Chapter Four Carys #2
There’s no eye contact, no body language masking. It’s just you in an empty room, and your voice. And the cameras, but you’ve spent your whole life finding ways to stim that are deemed ‘more normal’.
I’m here now. Walking in ignorant was my choice. I have to live with it.
And hope that someone likes me.
Though, will they want me overstimulated? My snappiest, most frazzled, the part of me that feels animal-raw?
I try never to let anyone I’m casually dating see that version of me. I know that when I’m engaged or living with someone, they’ll see that me. Eventually. What if they see me, and change their mind?
Louise’s five-minute warning startles me out of my anxiety, and I watch as she disappears out the door we’ll be walking through to start this whole process.
‘Five is so many.’ My words come out in a flat murmur.
‘So many,’ sighs Dolly. ‘When’s a girl gonna have time to eat? I noticed there was no mention of a lunch break.’
‘Exactly, the priorities are all wrong. There’d better be good snacks.’
‘Really good snacks.’ Dolly stands up straight. ‘I think this will be the most men I’ve spoken to in one day since I had to take my car to the garage. And I didn’t want to talk to most of them.’
‘Hopefully you’ll be a bit more thrilled about today’s men.’
‘At least they’re behind a wall, so if they utterly annoy me, I can roll my eyes as much as I like.’
‘I imagine that did not go down well at the garage.’
‘Oh no, I’m positive they charged me more, but fair enough. The dickhead tax got me.’
‘The dickhead tax?’ She has such funny sayings that I want to write them down.
‘Yeah, you know, when someone ups the prices to factor in dealing with someone you’d rather push off a cliff.
Or like if you’re freelancing and you don’t actually want to do whatever it is, so you charge three times as much to make up for not wanting to do it.
’ She glances at me sideways, then looks at the wall.
‘Not that I’ve ever done that to any of my clients,’ she adds in a theatrically honest voice.
I burst into giggles.
‘Hey, come on,’ she whispers with a smile. ‘I’m trying to keep my clientele.’
‘I don’t really get that option on the farm. The pigs would revolt,’ I sigh.
Dolly taps her fingers on the counter. ‘Are they tight? I feel like pigs don’t tip well. I’ve read Animal Farm. That’s the plot, right?’
I laugh. ‘I don’t think so, no.’
‘Also I imagine you can’t go about pushing them off cliffs without the RSPCA getting a little narked.’
‘Not many cliffs going in the East End of London.’ I shake my head with faux disappointment.
‘Also now I’m so confused about how your farm works. You’re invoicing the individual animals for their care?’
I snort with laughter. Her jokes flush all the worries away. It’s like she can turn down the volume on the world for me.
‘How do you set your fees? A sliding scale based on how big the animal is? God, imagine if you had an elephant pop in, you’d be rich.’
‘Stop,’ I gasp, trying to catch my breath. ‘I’m dying.’
‘So are all these large mammals you’re fleecing.’
I swipe at her with my hand, and she laughs in triumph. ‘Alright, I’ll stop. For now.’
I wish I could just stay here and be silly with Dolly. We’ve barely known each other a day, and she seems to understand when I’m being swallowed by my own nervous system better than some of my friends and family do. It’s nice.
My cheeks ache from laughing. ‘Thank you. And, I feel a lot better now, though I suspect my makeup might have run everywhere.’
‘Nah, you’re good. Beautiful as always,’ she says, and I feel a hot flush on my cheeks.
Other women don’t often call me beautiful. Cute, maybe. Adorable.
Beautiful feels special.
Before I can thank her, Louise summons us to the door. We naturally form a single-file queue in front of her. The invisible cloud of perfume and hairspray surrounding us makes my head swim.
One by one, microphone wires and sound packs are threaded down our backs, surprisingly cold against my hot skin.
‘It’s like a Britney mic,’ I say excitedly, as a nice man hooks it behind my ear.
‘Yeah,’ he replies with the weariness of a man who hears that every time.
Once we’re mic’d up, Louise leads us to a long corridor lined with doors.
I still haven’t learned everyone’s names, but one smiley woman leads me to a door.
At the end of the corridor, Reb rushes past giving me a flappy good luck wave.
There’s so much going on that everyone is on high alert today. Except Louise; she seems unflappable.
I wait in front of a door as all ten of us line up. Eventually, after what seems like a lifetime, Louise announces, ‘Okay, ladies, good luck!’
Some women cheer, but my mouth is too dry.
This is it. Time for my first date with a stranger. And four more after that.
I stand a little straighter and hope my face won’t ache from all the smiling I’m going to do.
I take the handle of the door and walk through.
For the room my life is supposed to begin in, it is quite unremarkable.
It’s just a softly lit, pink room, decorated very much like the warehouse with a big couch to sink into, layered with throw pillows and blankets.
It’s about the size of a stable. Hopefully the snacks in the mini-fridge are better than hay and a salt lick.
The only strange thing is the huge gold-edged mirror that must cover the partition between rooms. I wish it was a blurry screen or just a blank bit of wall. I don’t want to look at myself the whole time… though at least it means I can check I’m making the right expressions at the right time.
I wonder if I’ll always be in this specific room, or if we move around?
Either way, I’m finally alone, so the buzzing in my head disappears. I feel a little bruised by everything this morning, but maybe with silent time now, I’ll be alright.
I can’t hear anyone on the other side yet. It’s hard not to think about the man who will be behind the curtain. Or mirror. It’s all a bit Ozian, isn’t it?
I’m dressed as if I’m ready to play Dorothy, which I’d like to say was unintentional.
Baby-blue babydoll dress over a white blouse, and a big blue ribbon in my half-up, half-down hair.
My ruby (yes, to match Judy instead of the silver ones in the book) slippers don’t glitter, but they do have little patent leather hearts on the toe.
They’re not easy to walk in, but I’m sitting down all day.
I take a cold bottle of water out of the fridge so I will have something to do with my hands that’s not digging my fingernails into my own skin.
I set it down on the side table with my notebook and pen, and sit down carefully, spreading my skirt out so I won’t wrinkle the back much.
I sit ankles crossed and tucked away, like a princess.
Above the mirror, a light I didn’t notice before shines yellow. Does that mean it’s starting? Is he here?
‘Hello?’ I call out, like I’m speaking into a cave, expecting my own voice echoed back.
‘Hello!’ The echo is a much deeper voice than mine.
My hands go straight to my lips, smothering a nervous giggle. ‘Hi! You’re there! Wow.’
‘I am! Hello!’ His voice is happy, excited like my own. ‘May I know who I’m speaking to?’
‘Carys,’ I say, trying to make my name clear. ‘And you? What’s your name?’
‘Lovely to meet you, Carys. I’m Patrick.’
We break into nervous laughter at the exact same time.
‘Gosh, it’s a bit strange, isn’t it,’ Patrick says, in what I’m pretty sure is a Yorkshire accent, though I’m not sure I can narrow it down.
‘It’s very strange talking to my own reflection, and then hearing you reply.’
‘I know, I can barely look at myself.’ He laughs heartily. ‘Oh dear, that probably doesn’t sound particularly good, does it?’
‘I’m sure you’re lovely to look at, but I understand what you mean. I feel like I need to double-check there’s nothing between my teeth.’
His next laugh is a scatter burst of joy. I really like his laugh. I wonder if it will sound the same in front of me as it does coming out of the hidden speakers.
‘Hey, I wonder if you can hear me?’ Scuffling sounds from the same direction as his voice, but then there’s a knock on the wall right in front of me.
My reflection jumps in shock. ‘It’s you!’ I spring up, and knock back, first cautiously on the mirror. The sound is tinny and thin, so I move to the wall next to it.
‘I heard you!’ I could swear I feel the rumble of his voice through my palm against the wall.
‘Wow. You really are in there,’ I whisper.
He knocks back in a tune.
‘Shave and a haircut, two bits!’ I sing the same tune back, with the answer added on. ‘Oh no, now I’m thinking of the really scary bit in the bar in Who Framed Roger Rabbit.’
‘No toon can resist!’ His impression of the villain Judge Doom is uncanny.
I burst into nervous laughter. ‘Oh God, please never do that again. I’ll die!’
‘I promise to keep my impersonations of vintage children’s media villains under wraps.’
‘You have more?’
‘I had a very wasted youth.’
I giggle. This is going surprisingly well for a first date. I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed so much on one before. ‘I know we’re not supposed to know how each other looks, but I can’t help picturing you with the top hat and a cape now.’
‘Are you sure you can’t see me?’ he teases, and I hear him move around. ‘Do you have spy-cameras in here, Carys?’
‘I’d never,’ I gasp flirtatiously. This is surprisingly fun. He is fun, and I feel fun with him.
‘Okay, I trust you. You have a lovely singing voice, by the way.’
I realise that I’ve not actually moved from the mirror, so I sit back down on the couch as elegantly as possible. ‘Thank you.’ Like every wannabe manic pixie dream autistic, I had an open mic with a ukulele phase.
‘Oh gosh, I thought you’d gone then.’
Oops, I must have left a big gap. ‘Sorry, I forget you can’t see me. I’ve never been the best at phone calls either. I always get distracted.’
‘What distracts you?’