No. 9 Beat my anxiety
twenty
August
“Put that over there, would you?” I point to the corner of my little patch for the village fete so Connor can put down the chair he’s carrying.
“A please would be nice,” he grumbles, giving me a pointed stare that looks so much like Joanie, I nearly smile.
“What, Bea been teaching you some manners with all those recipes, has she?” I arch a brow at him and he just grins.
“Nah, she’s just nice to me, makes me realise what a bunch of dicks you lot are.” He places the hand carved, high-backed chair down and steps back to look at it. “It’s nice, that one.”
“Thanks,” I say with a laugh. “I try.”
“You still need me?” he asks, coming to stand next to me where I’m dusting off the ottoman I made just for today that’s taking pride of place, front a centre at my stall. “I want to get back and help BB bring down all the stuff we made.”
I turn to my nephew and look at his slightly pimpled face. He’s practically buzzing, bouncing on his feet with an energy I’ve not seen from him before. “You’re really enjoying working for her, aren’t you?”
He shrugs it off casually, but I’m not fooled. “She’s cool, and I like all the food we’re making. I’ll be catching up to you soon.” He pats his completely flat, almost concaved, belly and grins cheekily.
“Dipshit,” I mutter, but I ruffle his hair, partly because I’m so full of affection for this little dickhead and partly because I know it annoys him. He bats me away and grumbles. “Yeah, go on. Go help Bea. I’m sure she’s eager to get you back.”
“Actually, she sent me away when I rocked up this morning.” He laughs, picking up his water bottle and taking a swig. The sun is beating down, hot and strong already, even though it’s still mid-morning. “She seemed a bit jittery.”
That has my nerves on edge, and I narrow my gaze at Connor. “Jittery how?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Just nervous or excited, I guess. Apparently, I was too bouncy, and she needed me to go expel some energy while she got herself together. Her words, not mine.” He moves his sunglasses from the top of his head to cover his eyes and hits me with two finger guns, like a complete idiot. “Catch ya later, Unc.”
Dipshit indeed. He sets off up the road at a jog and my eyes follow him, an unease in my chest as I worry about Bea.
I don’t like the thought of her jittery and nervous.
I’m grateful The Reading Nook Café stall is opposite mine, the brightly coloured banner over the table set with a sunshine yellow cloth is all Bea.
The table is still empty as Bea wants to bring the food down at the last minute to save it from the heat for as long as possible.
She and Conner worked hard yesterday, baking cakes and cookies, making doorstop sandwiches and savoury pastries.
I see Eli arriving up the road, his muscles being put to good use by the gleaming silver keg he’s hauling to the pub’s stall which is a bit further up than mine.
Joanie is next to me, a selection of homemade pots and ceramics on her table, and her business cards for her interior design business available for people to take away with them.
“It’s fucking hot,” she complains, drawing my thoughts away from the pink haired beauty apparently brimming with nerves up the road.
I grunt a response because obviously it’s hot, there’s not a lot more to say. She tsks and punches my arm hard enough that my eyes water, but I don’t show her, she’ll never let me live it down.
“You’d think now you were getting laid, you’d be more personable.”
“And you’d think, as my sister, you wouldn’t be so interested in my sex life.” I huff, pulling a dust sheet off a small bureau I made a few years ago and have decided to sell to free up some room in the house.
“I’m not interested in it, ew, don’t be gross.”
“You brought it up.”
She looks up at me with big sisterly scrutinization. “How are things going? Not the sex stuff, the other stuff.”
“I wouldn’t tell you about the sex stuff even if you wanted to know,” I snark, and her whole head moves with the force of her eyeroll. “It’s good, she’s good…we’re—”
“Good?”
I shoulder bump her and she stumbles. “Prick,” she mumbles under her breath before we both smile at each other. “We’re going to have to help each other out today,” she says. “Con’s normally my second, but I’m pretty sure he won’t be pulled away from Bea for love nor money.”
I smile. “He does seem to really enjoy it, and Bea says he’s surprisingly talented in the kitchen.”
“He’s cooked dinner for us both, like, three times,” Joanie says, looking gobsmacked. “With vegetables and multiple components. It’s…weird.”
I hum, amused. “About time someone in your house made sure you’re both eating right.”
“I eat just fine,” she complains.
“You live off crisps and gummy worms.”
“Balance.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Love you too, little brother.”
I don’t return her sentiment out loud, even if—no matter how pathetic it makes me—Joanie is my best friend right there along with Eli.
Instead, I look back up the road to see if Bea is coming and find her and Connor striding down the slight incline with plastic tubs piled high in each of their arms. Leaving Joanie, possibly still wittering on, I dash over to Bea and take the boxes from her.
“I’ve got it,” I say, relieving her of the load.
She offers me a grateful smile even if it doesn’t seem as natural as usual. “Thanks.” Her hands wring in front of her before she shakes them out.
“You okay?” I say quietly.
“Yep,” she answers too quickly, too brightly.
I help Bea and Connor set up the table, Bea remaining quiet, speaking only when asked a question, and keeping her gaze firmly on the baked goods as we lay them out. Connor chats the whole time, seeming not to care or not to notice that Bea isn’t herself.
When people start flocking to the street fete in their droves, I’m forced to go back to my stall and chat to people, which isn’t my thing on a good day.
I’m unable to stop stealing glances across the walkway to where Bea is already surrounded by customers.
Her smile is painted on, failing at every interval between customers.
Does she look pale? She’s wearing more makeup than normal, but beneath it, she seems chalky, dark circles beneath her eyes.
I’m distracted, confirmed when the couple I was talking to walk away mid pitch because I just stopped talking when I saw Bea step back from her table, letting Con take the lead as she bends her head low and plants her hands on her hips.
Something is wrong, and I’ve seen this before.
When Bea drops to her haunches, I abandon ship and storm across the way, Connor gives me an incredulous look as I practically barge past him. I crouch in front of Bea, her face buried in her palms.
“Sunshine?” I speak softly so as not to startle her.
Bea shakes her head, still covering her face.
“Bea, can I touch you?” I ask, desperate to connect with her and pull her from whatever vortex her anxieties are pulling her into.
I know Cas hadn’t had any qualms about reaching out for Bea when she’d done this before, but I don’t want to assume she’ll be as comfortable with me.
She doesn’t speak but her head nods and I put my hands on her thighs, bare from her shorts. I don’t pull her hands from her eyes, allowing her to hide from the crowds for as long as she needs.
“Oh shit, is she alright?” I hear Connor behind me.
“She’s fine,” I tell him without turning away from Bea just in case she looks up and needs the eye contact. “Keep serving the customers and when you get a minute, go to Eli and ask for an orange juice.”
“Okay,” he says, all of his usual bravado gone, sounding worried. “I-I can go now.”
“Thanks, bud,” I say gently.
Bea starts shaking beneath me as I hear Connor run up the road. I stroke my thumbs in what I’m hoping are comforting circles against her skin. Her breaths are laboured, wheezing from her chest with pained sounds.
“Shh,” I say gently. “Breathe for me, sunshine. Take a nice big breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Do it with me.”
I take a long, loud breath in through my nostrils, urging her to join me, she peeks up at me through wet lashes, and I give her a reassuring smile. I do another long breath and this time she follows suit.
“Excuse me, do these have nuts in them?” A nasally voice sounds behind me. Bea’s eyes snap up and she seems to remember we’re out in public surrounded by people and in view of everyone, her eyes going wide and her breathing going back to shuddering gasps.
I’m about to curse out the woman who thought now was a good time to approach, but my sister’s dulcet tones do it for me. “Does it look nutty to you? No. Probably alright then.”
“I don’t eat nuts,” the woman scoffs.
“How unfortunate for your husband, now why don’t you walk away and come back when the stall is open again?” I can’t see Joanie, but I imagine her shooing away anyone trying to approach, putting her resting bitch face—her words, not mine—to good use.
“Don’t worry about them,” I tell Bea. “It’s just you and me, yeah?”
“You and me,” she breathes in agreement.
“Good girl. Now keep breathing, keep taking nice big breaths for me, you’re doing so well.”
She nods shakily. A flash of orange in my periphery tears my gaze from Bea just long enough to take the plastic cup from Connor.
I can feel him hovering, probably worrying about Bea and unsure what to do.
I should give him a task to keep him busy, but my focus is too taken by Bea and trying to make her feel better.
“Con, get Bea a chair, will you,” Joanie says somewhere behind me and once again, my nephew’s lumbering footsteps slap across the tarmac.
“We’ll have him tuckered out by the end of the day,” I tell Bea with a wink, and she lets out a snotty laugh that has a little tension leaving my shoulders. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her without a hint of sarcasm as she wipes her nose with the back of her hand.
“Shut up,” she says wetly, and my smile grows.
“You doing okay there, sunshine?”
“Yeah,” she, says, no longer shaking and sinking down like all the tension is leaving her body. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Bea. Don’t apologise. Don’t ever apologise.”
“I’ve ruined the fete,” she whispers, red eyes darting around.
“You’ve not ruined anything.” I raise one hand to cup her damp cheek, wiping away the tears from beneath her eyes. “I’d much rather be here talking to you than over there talking to idiots.”
She gives a weak, tight smile at my attempt at humour and dips her head again just as Connor’s shadow falls over us and a chair is placed next to where Bea sits.
“Come on, sunshine, let’s get you more comfortable.” I cup her elbows and pull her up with me until she plops back on the plastic chair.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she says, tears filling her eyes again as she slumps like all the fight has left her body.
I’m about to tell her not to be embarrassed, but my sister turns and crouches down to look Bea in the eye. “Do you want to hear embarrassing stories about August to make you feel better?”
“I don’t think that’s helpful right now,” I grumble, but Joanie ignores me.
“August loves Taylor Swift.”
“That’s not embarrassing, she’s the voice of our generation,” I say defensively, honestly a little offended she would bring Taylor into this. Bea looks up at me, a little sparkle back in her eye that has nothing to do with the tears.
“Okay, but is it embarrassing that you cried at all those videos of people proposing during Love Story at her concerts?” Joanie asks, staring up at me with innocent eyes and I glare at her.
“That was Eli.”
“The two of you were curled up under a blanket on his couch, both ugly crying. I have photo evidence.” The smugness in her grin is abhorrent, but another glance at Bea shows she’s rolled her lips between her teeth to bite down her smile.
I’d suffer a million embarrassments for one of her sunbeam smiles, so I just shrug, and Bea lets out a small laugh.
Connor is running the stall behind us, chatting away and clearly doing a good job by the number of times I hear the little beep of Bea’s card machine.
I glance over my shoulder and see my dad at my stall talking to someone about the carved chair.
Mum is behind Joanie’s stall, handing out her card and smiling at everyone who stops to chat.
“Do you want to go home? We can sit quietly for a bit and come back later,” I tell Bea.
She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “No, I need to stay.”
I want to argue, bundle her up, and carry her away until I know she’s okay, but I also know she has to do this for herself and prove she hasn’t ruined the day. “Okay, you want me to help here?”
She smiles at me, blue eyes twinkling in the midday sun, gratitude and something even warmer shining up at me. “I think Con and I have it, but thank you.”
I nod once, reluctant to leave her but it’s getting a little crowded behind this stall and Bea is looking a lot better. I head back to my stall and relieve Dad of his volunteered duties, slapping his shoulder in thanks.
“Can we do anything?” Mum asks, casting a concerned glance over to where Bea has stood and is talking to customers with a smile at half-mast.
“I don’t think so,” I tell her. “But maybe stay close?”
“Of course.” She squeezes my arm as Joanie comes back to her stall.
“Thanks, Mum.” She kisses Mum’s cheek and goes over to talk to the customers waiting at her table. Joanie would probably do better letting Mum run her stall as she can rarely muster enthusiasm for speaking to strangers.
I’m having my poorest fete day since I started doing these things because I’m too distracted, watching Bea as she rallies like a fucking trooper, smiling at customers, chatting to people, and clearly making a great impression on everyone.
I see her wain, her colour fading as the day goes on, and she keeps digging her fingers into her hair and tugging the strands at her scalp.
By the time everyone starts packing up, she’s back on the chair and sipping from a water bottle.
“Hey,” I say, approaching. “Why don’t you head home? I’ll help Connor get your stuff back to the café.” She bites her lip in a guilty gesture, I know she’s going to argue, so I put a hand on her shoulder. “Please, Bea, go home and get some rest. You want me to come by when I’m done?”
She shakes her head without hesitation. “I think I just want to be alone.”
I try not to let the disappointment show. “Sure, get some sleep, sunshine, we’ll see each other tomorrow.”
She nods and pats my chest in thanks, walking away without another word, and I feel the eyes on us from all the locals, clearly confirming the whispers they’ve been passing around the last couple of weeks.
But all I can think about is Bea wanting space when all I want is to hold her close, a strange feeling when my last girlfriend wanted a lot of space and I was more than happy to give it to her.