Chapter Twenty-One
I have the next two days off, so I go to the gym, do some shopping and write another blog post. I’ve had no more nasty comments from trolls, and quite a few likes now, so I’m feeling pretty good. I tried to give Sophie a call to tell her about Kelsey inviting me to the work do, but she didn’t pick up and hasn’t texted me back. Cecilia has been distant too, and Anna is completely wrapped up in baby-world. I have to force myself to think rationally; I’m sure they’re just busy with life and work and domestic dramas of their own.
But why aren’t they talking to me about it?
I start to wonder what I’ve done wrong, going over every interaction with them in my head. Is it because I work at Frederick’s now? Do they think I’m irresponsible for stepping off the career ladder? No, of course not, they wouldn’t sack me off for something like that. I bloody hope they wouldn’t, anyway.
Maybe I cringed everyone out with how emotional I got at the baby scan? But they’re used to my outbursts and fluctuating moods, and besides, they were odd with me before all that. I called Saffron in the end, in a spiralling moment of panic, apologising for burdening her with my issues but explaining that I needed someone to offload to. Despite having only met me twice — and on both of which occasions I behaved like someone not from this planet — she was amazing, talking me through it, making me laugh, making it all seem easier. I feel better, but my mind keeps circling around what I could have done to upset everyone.
I’m stewing on this as I walk to yoga. People look at me strangely and I realise I’m acting out conversations in my head, and my face is moving in response. I get to the bottom of the vast set of stairs up to the studio when my phone rings.
‘Hello?’ I lean against the door frame and light a cigarette, grateful for the respite before the big climb.
‘Hello, love.’ It’s Dad.
‘Hi Dad, you all right?’ It’s a while since I’ve spoken to him; all my correspondence has been with Mum and about Nana. Oh god, what if this is about Nana? What if he’s calling because Mum’s too upset to come to the phone?
‘Yes, all good here,’ he breezes. ‘We’re organising an Easter lunch, would you like to come?’
Phew. ‘Easter was last weekend, though?’ I spent it eating buckets of pasta, watching Catfish reruns, drinking schnapps from last Christmas and feeling a bit depressed.
‘I know, but Nana was in hospital, wasn’t she, so we postponed. She’ll be out soon and once she’s settled in here we’re going to do a nice big roast.’
‘Wait, so Nana’s definitely moving in with you guys?’ I’m relieved. I’ve been constantly worrying about her going into care. I’ve seen enough Dispatches secret camera videos to see what horrible things go on in nursing homes.
‘For the time being, yes. We’ve asked Charlie to find his own place. He needs the push. We’ll find something more permanent for Nana once she’s properly on the mend.’ He sighs. ‘So, this coming Saturday? Does that work for you?’
‘Yep,’ I say immediately, knowing I have no plans.
I end the call and bound up the stairs. This feels so much easier now, but the tightness in my chest is still holding me back, just like it does at the gym. I need to stop smoking.
Dreadlocks guy (whose name is actually Frank, I have discovered) lights up as I walk in and scoots around the counter to wrap me in a hug.
‘Hello! I’m always so glad when you come back.’ He grins at me, a little piece of spinach wedged between his two front teeth.
‘Hi, Frank,’ I say, a little uncomfortable with his familiarity but also sort of used to it by now.
‘Your penultimate lesson. Are you loving it? Is it everything you dreamed it would be?’
I ponder this question for a second. When I started here, I dreamed that yoga would make me a sexy, flexy Instagram influencer. That hasn’t happened, obviously, but I do feel different. I feel calmer, more in control. Although I’m sure I’d feel even more in control with a body like Emma Penton’s.
The thought doesn’t hit as hard as usual.
‘Sort of.’ I smile.
‘Then go forth, child of the universe, and connect with the earth beneath your feet!’ He pushes me towards the studio and I stumble to the shoe rack, contemplating how I can feel the earth when we’re three storeys up.
Everyone is here already except Altantsetseg, so I grab a mat and squeeze in next to Gary.
‘Hiya.’ I give him a nudge.
‘Hey.’ He glances at me and fiddles with his mat. He was a bit strange with me last week too, and I wonder what I’ve done. Why is everyone being off with me?!
Altantsetseg eventually arrives, giving off serious negative vibes, and angrily leads us through our sequences. She really isn’t cut out for this job.
As soon as we finish, Gary leaps up and goes to put his mat away. I scamper after him.
‘Do you want to go and get a drink?’ I ask, my heart hammering. It’s one drink, it doesn’t mean he has to be my boyfriend. We’re just friends. Yoga friends. It’s normal to get a drink with a friend after doing a joint activity, isn’t it?
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘Oh.’
‘Oh, god, sorry, is that weird?’ My face flames.
‘No! No, it isn’t. Sorry, I just — well, I assumed you didn’t want to hang out with me. Outside of here, I mean.’ He looks at his feet.
‘What? Why? Because I said no last time?’ This is awful.
‘No, it’s... this is going to sound really stupid. It’s just that you never texted me, so I thought...’
Oh, shit. I completely forgot we swapped numbers. We were supposed to coordinate our arrival so we wouldn’t have to be alone with Altantsetseg.
‘God, Gary, I’m sorry. I completely forgot. I’m a bit useless at the moment.’ I run my hands through my hair.
‘No, seriously, I’m sorry. I just assumed... never mind. Of course I’d like to go for a drink.’ He smiles.
We go into La Vi?a round the corner and get a table by the window. It’s dark in here and there are candles on every table. It instantly makes me a bit horny.
‘So,’ Gary says as soon as our drinks arrive, ‘what’s going on with you?’
‘Ugh, where do I start?’ I realise that I haven’t ever really spoken to Gary about my life, so there’s a lot of ground to cover. I decide to pick one minor thing we can discuss without needing miles of context and history; explaining the whole sorry mess would just be overwhelming for him.
‘Well, I got fired a few weeks ago, and it was a pretty messy situation. I never really got on with anyone there, except this one girl, and she’s just invited me to work drinks next Friday.’ I roll my eyes. ‘It’s bothering me, I don’t know why.’
‘Wow, easy problems to have.’ He smiles.
‘Oh, trust me, that’s the tip of the iceberg. My least problematic problem.’
‘So why are you even worrying about this? You hate them all, don’t go. Simple.’ He takes a sip of his beer.
My phone chimes and I pull it out from my pocket. It’s another text from Martin, asking me to meet him and his new girlfriend for drinks on Friday night. What is wrong with him? How is that a normal thing to suggest?
Gary is looking at me, waiting for me to reply. I come back to myself, remembering what we were talking about, and push my phone to the bottom of my bag.
‘Sorry, that was rude of me. I don’t hate them. But it’s weird. Part of me really wants to go. I feel different recently, now a bit of time’s passed. I think it’d be nice to see them all and just behave however I want, because I’m not worried about losing my job anymore. Does that make sense?’
He laughs. ‘You just want to give them all a piece of your mind, basically?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe? Or maybe just show them I’m better off now I don’t work there. I didn’t exactly behave impeccably.’
‘Oh god, give me an example.’ He leans forward.
I start by telling him about Theo and his strangeness, and the whole thing comes tumbling out — the curry clothes, the sporty camel toe, the drunken conference showdown. All of it. By the end Gary is shaking with laughter and I find myself laughing too.
‘You are the most interesting person I think I’ve ever met,’ he says eventually.
‘You know, it’s strange. I felt so terrible about all those things. I felt really ashamed. But now I’m looking back and it’s just funny. Nobody died, except my dignity, career and relationship, of course, but it’s good. I feel like it’s been good for me,’ I laugh.
‘I feel like I’d be happy just sitting here and listening to your stories forever. You’ve got a real way of telling them.’
I feel a little flutter of hesitation at the flirtation. ‘They’re all true, unfortunately.’
‘Go on, tell me some more.’ He rests his head in his hands and I feel like I’ve been given centre stage to talk about everything, so of course I do.
I tell him about Nana, my brother’s weird behaviour, my new boss Darren. How I’ve made a list, gone vegan, how I want to quit smoking. I talk about the gym, my friends being weird with me, Anna’s baby scan. It all comes pouring out and he is a captive audience, offering laughs for the funny parts and consolation for the sadness. It feels weird to be offloading to someone I barely know, but in a way it feels like the easiest thing in the world — this guy has no pre-fixed ideas about me, he’s easy to open up to. I could mould my past and my present to sound wonderful to impress him, but I don’t. I tell him everything exactly as it is.
And he’s still sitting here.
‘God, sorry, I feel like I’ve gone on about myself all night.’ I check my watch; it’s already 10p.m.
‘Hang on, backtrack a sec,’ he scratches his chin and I panic, wondering which part has made him second-guess his opinion of me. ‘What do you mean, you wrote a list?’
‘Oh.’ I wasn’t expecting him to flag that part. I feel my face flame. ‘Well, there’s this girl — on Instagram — and she’s just so... perfect, I guess, and I just felt like I so totally wasn’t perfect... I don’t know.’ I’m babbling. ‘I made a list of all the things I could change to be more like her.’
Gary’s eyes widen. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Well, no, when I say it it sounds ridiculous, but in practice—’
‘No way.’ He shakes his head. ‘You should never try to be someone else.’
‘But she just seemed so much happier, and better— ’
‘How do you know? You don’t even know her. She could be a really miserable, terrible person in real life.’
‘No, I do know her. She’s — oh, never mind, it doesn’t matter. Sorry. I’ve rabbited on enough, you must be bored.’
‘This has been the best night I’ve had in a very long time.’ He smiles and his face breaks open again. ‘You can really tell a story. Fuck the list, you should write a book.’
I open my mouth to tell him about my blog, but it’s something I’m not ready to share yet. NRJogger is still in the back of my mind, along with the shame and fear of not being good enough.
Eventually we leave, and I make him promise me that next time we hang out I can hear his monologue, The Story of Gary, even though suggesting a next time fills me with something not quite pleasant but not quite awful that I can’t put my finger on. He promises.
We hug goodbye and I feel a little frisson of excitement as he pulls me close to him. Fuck — I can’t fancy him. I’m not ready, I’ve not got the mental space. I suddenly feel trapped and pull away quickly. As I turn to leave he touches my arm.
‘Go to the work do on Friday. If nothing else, it’ll make another great story.’
I pause for a second, taking in his crinkly eyes.
I can’t do this, I really can’t. Can I?
I take a deep breath.
‘Only if you come with me.’