I realise that I’m watching some kind of interpersonal drama unfold. ‘I think we should intervene,’ I say, my voice in steady emergency mode. I’ve always been good at managing Situations, probably because my life is just a constant stream of Situations. ‘Before things escalate further.’
The Goddess’s gaze on me is like being stripped bare. I’ve never been one for eye contact, but I can’t look away from her. It’s like she’s seeing through the layers of me. I don’t know how to describe it in a way that makes sense or soundsgood.
‘Dolly,’ she says, and I realise this must be her name. I must admit this isn’t what I was expecting. Freyja, Eris or Athena feel more appropriate.
Dolly sticks her hand out, and for a second I wonder whether to shake it or kiss the back of it, like I’m swearing fealty. Luckily, I remember to be normal. I hope it wasn’t too sweaty a handshake.
‘Carys. Shall we?’
‘After you,’ she says, and we walk over to the yelling women.
They’re still so deep in the argument that neither of them seem to notice our arrival.
‘Youknowthat Lily and I have always had a connection. That is all before I even met you!’ wails the Car Woman.
I can’t quite tell if they’re arguing about the ex or the cat. ‘Excuse—’ I begin, but they barrel through.
‘Oh, and you can’t change how you act towards a person because you want to protect someone else’s feelings?’
‘You didn’t protect mine!’
Inexplicably, they both burst into loud wailing tears.
Dolly strides forward to stand between the crying women. It’s impressive scene management. Perhaps she’s done first aid training too. ‘Okay, ladies. This has gone on long enough. Are either of you hurt?’
‘Only in mysoul,’ yells the Bike Woman between sobs.
‘That must be dreadful. But I meant physically so Cherry over here can check you over.’
I get a flutter in my stomach as she nods over to me. ‘It’s Carys,’ I say but I don’t think anyone hears.
Car Woman holds up a purplish hand sadly. ‘I caught my finger in the door when I was slamming it for emphasis.’
‘Do you have a first aid kit in the back of your car?’ I ask, and she shakes her head. What kind of irresponsible person doesn’t have a first aid kit to hand at all times? I suppose, the kind of person who’d stop their car across traffic to have an argument in the street.
‘I do,’ shouts a man leaning out of his car window behind me. The boot pops open automatically, and I’m grateful to see a new, in-date first aid kit awaiting me. This is the kind of man I’m looking for. Someone organised, who pays attention to things.
‘Ow,’ whimpers Car Woman, and I suddenly remember I’m supposed to be helping her, not mentally listing criteria for my future husband.
There’s a crash as the Lime bike falls to the floor. ‘Sorry, it was just really heavy,’ wails the Bike Woman.
‘I’ll take Car Woman,’ I say to Dolly, keeping my voice low. ‘You take Bike Woman.’
Dolly snorts. ‘Not cyclist and motorist?’
‘That would make more sense, yes.’
‘But be less linguistically fun.’ She flashes me a smile. ‘Bike Woman it is.’
Car Woman leans against her car, sniffling and pink-cheeked. Her light brown hair is pulled back into an Ariana Grande-style ponytail that pulls her eyebrows into a surprised angle. I worry for her hairline.
‘Can I check over your hand?’ I ask.
She nods sulkily but doesn’t speak. Her finger, while purple, doesn’t seem to be broken. I check over her whole hand for good measure.
‘Nothing serious. Just a bit dented, but you’ve broken the skin, so I’m going to wrap it up,’ I explain to her, as I flick through the kit for wipes and bandages.
A few tears land on the tarmac between us, and I feel the urge to hug this beautiful screaming lady. Sure, she’s made poor choices, including but not limited to sleeping with someone she shouldn’t and holding a cat hostage, but she seems so sad and small.
