Chapter 19
There was an excitable buzz about the place when Casey arrived at the store for her shift.
She caught snippets about an upcoming event but didn’t give it too much thought; Coopers I’m not about to give it up for a man who looks like he moisturizes with wood stain. ”
Casey nodded. “Fair. Here, make yourself useful. All the size-sixteen-to-eighteen packs go on the middle rack.” She pushed the box toward Margo with her foot. Margo ignored her and began to fold the offending poster instead.
“Young Kerry seems happy to have him here,” the spirit ventured.
Casey tutted.
“And he is handsome, I suppose, in that bland way that some men have, as though they were created by an early version of AI. What do you plan to do while Mr. Generic is in residence?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Casey said, busying herself with a new stock of festive knickers. Maybe she should buy a pair to wear on her date with Ajay, just in case.
“Yes,” said Margo languidly. “I forgot that you prefer the head-in-the-sand approach to problem-solving.” She had left the knicker multipacks half hung and moved on to spritzing herself with the ￡10.99 bottles of lavender sleep mist.
Casey retrieved the bottle and put it back with the home spa essentials range.
“There’s nothing to solve,” she said a little snappishly.
“I’ll just keep out of their way. Shouldn’t be too hard; they’ll be up in the book department, and I can be replenishing the rest of the store; no reason at all our paths should cross. ”
“So, your plan is to hide.” Margo drawled the last word out.
“If it’s good enough for you it should be good enough for me,” Casey countered archly.
“Oh, touché.” Margo grinned. “The difference, of course, being that my concealment is only temporary, whereas you seem to have made it a lifestyle choice.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. In a couple of weeks the meme will be gone, and I can start living my life how I want to.”
“Hmmmmm.” Margo pressed a finger to her lips in a show of thinking. “I’d like to offer an unpopular opinion.”
“That’s not like you,” Casey replied, unpacking a box of festive socks.
Margo smiled sweetly. “I propose that you’re comfortable living in the shadows because it is safer.
Sam and the meme gave you the perfect excuse to remain there.
You can forever be the woman with huge potential, without ever putting it to the test, and who could blame you?
‘Oh, what I could have been if not for that infernal meme!’ ” She mimicked Casey in a singsong voice.
“And who would ever dare argue with a woman so wronged as you’ve been… ?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Casey spluttered. “The meme ruined my life. Why else would I have made a deal with you to get rid of it? Answer me that, Margo Freud!”
Margo remained irritatingly unflustered.
“In your last glimpse, you were still demonstrably avoiding intimacy and writing, and even your family, in a reality where the meme has never existed. Curious, no?” She took up Sam’s poster again and ran her nails over one of the folds she’d previously made to sharpen it.
If Casey clenched her teeth any harder, her jaw would be in danger of cracking. Margo was right. “Yeah, well, joke’s on you because when I go on my date with Ajay on Tuesday, I’m going to be more open than a cooked clam.”
“Lucky Ajay. Listen, I’m not saying that Sam isn’t a piece of shit.
” Margo’s voice was placating. “By all accounts, calling Sam Moon a piece of shit is offensive to pieces of shit.” Casey tried not to smile as Margo continued.
“I am simply asking you to consider the possibility of two truths at once: that the meme has been awful in myriad ways, and that your fear of failing was already rooted deep before you’d ever clapped eyes on that self-aggrandizer.
If we erase one issue without confronting the other, there is a good chance that ultimately your fate will remain unchanged. ”
“I really, really hate it when you’re right,” said Casey, her hands on her hips, a pair of holly socks dangling from each clenched fist.
“I know. If it’s any consolation, it’s no fun for me either.” Margo looked delighted.
“So where do we go from here?” Casey asked, sighing.
By now Margo had made an impressive paper airplane out of Sam’s book poster, which she pointed at Casey’s forehead and let fly, shouting, “We see another glimpse!”
“Ouch!” Casey rubbed the spot on her forehead where the airplane had hit her. “That was really sharp! God! That’s going to leave a mark.”
“We can but hope,” Margo replied.