May #2
Jesy: Oh, Brian. Come on! What’s the worst that can happen?
Brian: You add one of your dad jokes.
Jesy: Jesy jokes.
Jesy: And I’m failing to see the issue. They would absolutely get you laid.
Brian: I’ll pass.
Brian: I don’t have time to date anyway. I have this obnoxious friend who won’t stop emailing me.
Jesy: She sounds delightful. Your horoscope says to keep her around.
Brian: Ah. I don’t need a horoscope to tell me that.
Jesy: N’aww, shucks.
15 May | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Brian Trainer
Subject: MAYDAY
Whatever you are doing, stop.
Nothing is more important than this.
You have received an instant message from:
JESY
Jesy: You’re online! Thank God.
Brian: I signed in as soon as I got your email.
Brian: Are you okay?
Jesy: No.
Jesy: I don’t think I will be for a very long time.
Brian: Jesy. God, what happened?
Jesy: I found my father-in-law’s masturbation socks.
Jesy: Brian?
Jesy: Brian!
Brian: What? Oh, yeah. I’m here. Wait. So that’s the emergency?
Jesy: Yes.
Brian: Christ! I thought something was wrong! I was ready to wire you money and get you somewhere safe.
Jesy: We’ll circle back to that in a moment. I tell you I’ve found Thomas’ masturbation socks, and you think that doesn’t count as something being wrong?!
Jesy: I am traumatised!
Brian: Masturbation is very healthy.
Jesy: Not at his age! Not in MY bed! Not into a fucking sock!
Brian: Your bed?
Jesy: YES! Despite having his own room, he decided to use MY bed.
Brian: I don’t know if I want the answer to this question, but did he say why?
Jesy: You think I’ve asked him? I can barely look the man in the eye!
Brian: Then how do you know it’s him?
Jesy: I don’t think my sex life has become that poor that my husband, the only other man in the house, would feel the need to jerk off into a sock.
Jesy: That and Thomas has personalised socks.
Brian: Of course he does.
Brian: Good for him, I suppose. How old did you say he was? Well into his seventies. Let’s hope we all have his virility at his age.
Jesy: I don’t think you’re taking this at all seriously.
Brian: Oh.
Brian: I’m sorry.
Brian: Tell me again, and I will act appropriately.
Jesy: My father-in-law has been masturbating into socks.
Brian: What? EW! No way!
Jesy: Right?!
Jesy: And not only that, but he’s also been doing it in my bed.
Brian: Nu-uh! That is crossing SO many boundaries!
Jesy: Right?!
Jesy: And not only that, I found his crusty old, spunk covered socks stuffed between the mattress and my headboard.
Brian: Actually, no. That’s seriously nauseating.
Brian: What did Jerry say?
Jesy: That it was no big deal.
Jesy: So, I left one of the socks inside his pillowcase.
Brian: Bahaha. Did you actually?
Jesy: No. But only because his pillow somehow always ends up on my side of the bed. I threw them all on the fire and started locking my bedroom door when I leave.
Brian: Probably for the best.
Brian: He could have been going through your underwear drawer.
Jesy: Stop it!
Brian: Hahaha.
Brian: What a randy old bugger.
Jesy: Tell me about it. He’s been going to bingo every Thursday and Saturday to ‘check out the local talent’.
Brian: I assume he doesn’t mean local musicians.
Jesy: You assume correctly.
Brian: He’s taking Susan’s death well, then?
Jesy: Like you wouldn’t believe.
21 May | From: Brian Trainer | To: Jesy Pattinson
Subject: Curious minds.
I just realised I never asked.
What did you do before taking care of Susan? You mentioned an ex-boss, right?
21 May | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Brian Trainer
Subject: RE: Curious minds.
Ohh, talking about myself!
My favourite.
Yes, I used to have a job before Susan died. I used to have a life, and some independence and I threw it all away for a woman who thoughtlessly died two months later.
Fuck.
That was a little darker than I intended.
I used to work in this beautiful little inn called The Pear Tree. I was the day manager and worked closely with the inn’s owner, Isla (the aforementioned ex-boss).
I loved my job.
Not only is the inn gorgeous, but it’s right on the boundaries of the village I grew up in, which sits in the valley of two looming hills. From every direction are stunning views of the loch, the hills, the forestry. Honestly, it is the most beautiful place to live, and I miss it dearly.
The inn (actually, the entire area) has all this deep history, and in the lobby, there are these portraits of the people who built it. Isla is actually related to them, believe it or not. The inn stayed in her family for generations.
Anyway, it was a fantastic job.
I loved meeting all the guests who checked in, the different personalities that came through the door.
There were unexpected challenges that I just enjoyed figuring out.
Like, just last December, we had a fire in the middle of hosting a wedding.
It was super stressful, but so rewarding when we pulled everything together.
And Isla is one of my best friends. I grew up friends with her boyfriend, too, who was always hanging around the inn even when they weren’t together.
I miss them.
I miss my job.
God, I just miss who I was five months ago.
21 May | From: Brian Trainer | To: Jesy Pattinson
Subject: RE: Curious minds.
Sounds like you had a pretty sweet deal.
But you left to take care of Susan?
21 May | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Brian Trainer
Subject: RE: Curious minds.
Aye.
Honestly, I might not have liked the woman very much, but damn did my heart bleed for her near the end. She declined rapidly, and I can’t imagine being trapped in your own head, knowing you were waiting to die.
Gives me nightmares, if I’m honest.
When I left, it was with the hope she still had a fighting chance. The new year came and went, and things were looking alright for a second. I was carting her here and there for appointments, helping her get out just for some fresh air.
We actually got along okay during those moments. She’d be in a wheelchair, bundled up in layers upon layers to fight the cold. And we’d walk around talking shite and taking in the scenery.
She told me a lot about her youth, about meeting Thomas and raising their kids. She shared memories of where we lived and how much had changed over the years. I told her about my own upbringing and how the city was a startling change for me after growing up in the sticks.
It was nice for like a week or two.
And then seemingly out of nowhere, she just…
It was awful.
They put her on end-of-life care, and my job became less about taking care of her, and more about keeping her comfortable. She died at home, as was her wish and that was that.
Less than two months after I left the inn, I no longer had purpose.
I faked it for a while. Arranging the funeral, sorting through Susan’s belongings, getting the spare room ready for Thomas. But now…
I feel kind of aimless.
Isla offered to rehire me, but she’s already found my replacement. Jerry says he makes enough to cover our bills and to not worry about it. I think he’s got used to having me at home. The house is always tidy. Dinners always on the table. He wants for nothing.
And it’s not a bad life.
I’ve always liked the idea of being at home and taking care of my husband. But I have to admit, I’m bored.
I’m bored, and I’m restless, and I feel like I have more to offer the world than my sub-par culinary skills and my ability to make our toilet sparkle.
But that’s a conversation for another day.
21 May | From: Brian Trainer | To: Jesy Pattinson
Subject: RE: Curious minds.
And since it is after midnight, it’s now another day.
How about that?
So maybe you can’t go back to working your previous job, but there’s nothing stopping you finding another inn. Or a hotel perhaps.
If you enjoyed the work, why not find something closer to home so you can have the best of both worlds? You can give yourself purpose and still take care of Jerry the way you want to.
Note, I say the way you want to, by the way. Not the way he does. I’m sure he has become used to you being at home, and it’s nice the two of you have time together. But your identity is not ‘Jerry’s wife’, and his comfort is not a reason for you to lose yourself.
That’s my advice anyway, for what it’s worth.
21 May | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Brian Trainer
Subject: RE: Curious minds.
I won’t lie, I’ve thought about it.
There’s a hotel not too far from us that was hiring a while back. It’s so close I could walk to work each day, come home on my lunch and continue, as you say, taking care of Jerry the way I want to.
I even filled in an application form.
But for whatever reason, I couldn’t bring myself to send it.
I think I’m done with the hospitality world. It was never my big dream, and as much as I loved working at The Pear Tree, that was a lot to do with where and who.
I don’t want to start over in a faceless chain with strangers that might never become friends.
21 May | From: Brian Trainer | To: Jesy Pattinson
Subject: RE: Curious minds.
Not every work colleague becomes a friend. That’s a risk with any field of work.
But I hear you.
There’s nothing more soul destroying than a job you don’t have passion for.
So… what was your big dream?
When you were a little girl, imagining how your life might turn out, what did you envision?
21 May | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Brian Trainer
Subject: RE: Curious minds.
Ha.
When I was a little girl, I legit thought I was going to grow up to become Barbie.
And I mean… literally Barbie. A plastic doll. Not someone trying to emulate her.
I don’t know how I ever thought that was going to happen, but in my mother’s home office, there is a framed picture of me at six years old, dressed up in a life-sized Barbie box. And not even for Halloween or something. Because. I. Thought. I. Was. Barbie.
Eventually, I grew a brain cell, and I realised becoming plastic was 1. Impossible. And 2. Not recommended.
So, plan B was to become a writer.
Yeah.