What’s set me off (kind of hate this phrase—is very “hysterical woman”—but can’t think of a better one) is what Jones said about Galoshes. Specifically, the fact thatmyissues with Galoshes are the reason the shop isn’t making more money.
Truth is, if Galoshes liked me, we would already be serving Doc’s biscuits and fancy flat whites. We’d have autumn decorations that weren’t constantly being rearranged, and stock laid out the way we wanted it, and staff who actually listened to us.
I’ve tried so hard to impress Galoshes, but I’m still failing, and because of that, I’m either going to lose my job here in two weeks’ time, or…Jones is.
What would he do? Would he go back to the mainland? There are so few jobs here out of season—what elsecouldhe do?
So…yes. The anxiety is a little quieter now that I’ve figured out where it’s coming from, for sure. But the truth is, I’m still scared.
Let’s focus on the good things.
The catalog of donors. That letter from the London fertility clinic, explaining how encouraging the results of my tests were. The possibility of a future I can build all on my own.
The cows. Have formed a weird bond with a few of them, who often come over to eye me on the walk to the shop.They don’t ask anything of me, they just hang around, like they know I might want company. It’s kind of sweet.
The autumn sunshine. Crisp blue island skies. Birdsong at dusk. Ormer, basically—the clean air, the open space, the earth beneath my feet.
Jones. He knows I’m not myself at the moment. He doesn’t try to talk to me about it—just does little things to make my life easier. Handles the early-morning deliveries at the shop so that I can go for a run when I wake up. Quietly stores my leftovers in the fridge if I don’t eat a proper meal in one sitting, because he knows sometimes I can manage a second try later when the anxiety’s loosened up a bit. And yesterday he just…put his hand on my shoulder. He didn’t say anything or do anything, just put his hand there. We hardly ever touch except by accident. I don’t dare—I know I’d like it too much. It was strange how affecting it was, having his hand resting on my shoulder. I’ve never had someone justaccepthow I’m feeling that way before. Whatever the reason we ended up living this strange, shared life together, I’m grateful for him—even if he is an extremely troublesome distraction.
Have been thinking. Wonder if part of the reason my anxiety’s got worse lately is that I’m feeling a bit…guilty. And not just about the job stuff—about the people here.
I knew when I decided to come to Ormer that I’d have to hold parts of my past back from the community I hoped to join here. Wanted new friends, new neighbors, and it didn’t bother me that I’d have to keep the odd thing from them, because we all do that, right? Even Brianna doesn’t know everything about me.
But now I’m here, it’s different. Have ended up sharing so much of my real self with people—just last night Rosie and I went to the pub and ended up swapping notes on the ridiculous shit we both worry about, and it was so lovely. Came home feeling the best I have in ages. Guess I hadn’t counted onwantingto share myself (my real self?) with so many of the people here. After all, never did much of that back home.
Also hadn’t counted on Jones.
It’s even harder to hold myself back with him than it is with the others. He’s a proper empath, I think—he hurts when you’re hurting, hecares. Can see why he turned up here determined to keep everyone at a distance. If you let people in that way, just by nature, then it must be extra painful when they let you down.
But look at this conversation we had at dinner tonight. This is classic Jones. Planned to chat about the shop—“what’s up with Red and Toby” was top of my agenda—but instead we ended up talking about what it means to be a good person. The mancannotdo surface-level. It’s deep chat or nothing. Here, look:
“Do you believe in karma?” he asked me, spooning the rice onto our plates.
Had made korma, which was, genuinely, how this had come up.
“Not really. I think things happen for a reason, though.”
“What reason, then?”
This made me pause.
“I think people maybe…get what they deserve.” I winced as I said it. Wasn’t necessarily a nice thought.
