He wasn’t here. He was running some goddamn kids camp by the seaside, and I hated that he was out there in the fresh air running down beaches having fun…when I was slowly dying on the inside.
I hated that he wasn’t here.
That he monopolised the inside of my head but wasn’t in my bed.
Whoever had marked me down on my final English exam could do one, because for all I cared? I was the master of fucked-up wordings. And they were everywhere in my head. All the time.
“George,” she hissed. “You can’t zone out. Not today. Not now. Give me your phone.”
“My phone?” I gave her my phone.
My phone. Because this shitty company couldn’t even give me a company one.
“I’ve put my number in as G,” she said, tapping away at the screen. “Keep it safe. I promise you, whatever you decide, whatever you choose to do? You will work again. And if you can’t find work, you ring me because I answer my goddamn phone. I suggest you do too. I have your number now, kiddo.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“You’re good. You’re really good at what you do. It’s this company. This show. These people. It’s not all like this, I promise you. There are really good people around. Great productions. Good times. We just picked the short straw here.”
I thought I nodded.
“You’ll be fine. I’m not telling you what to do, but you need to be prepared. Have your shit in order. Be ready. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. But I…I nodded. I nodded so hard I thought my neck would snap off.
My vision had this ability to zone out when I got overwhelmed. When there were too many things I had to handle at the same time. When the voices shouting at me became too much.
Like now, when someone was howling for me to step out of the way, and there was some kind of huge argument going on between two people whose names I couldn’t for the life of me remember. The camera was pivoting in front of me as I ducked and slid down the back corridor.
Production office. I needed to see Storm, and I needed to charge my tablet so I could upload some documents into the cloud, and I needed to get the timesheet adjusted and…and.
Fear. It was there, constantly, like a weight on my shoulders I couldn’t shift. This job, I could do. I knew how to do things; I knew where to put things. I could move things and stack tasks, and I could get my thoughts in order, and I could…
It was never enough. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t as fast and as smart and as on the ball, and I thought too much and too hard, and I would never…
I was scared. I was really,reallyscared.
It wasn’t just what Gina had said earlier. That was just words with no substance. A warning for no reason more than what I knew.
This was going to hell, and I was right at the helm, doing nothing to stop it.
I wasn’t…
It hit me out of nowhere, the realisation almost knocking me off my feet. I was suddenly leaning against the wall, my glasses far too low on my nose. I couldn’t actually make myself push them back up.
I was doing this to myself. Because I wasn’t speaking up. I wasn’t saying no to everything that was so clearly wrong. And here I was on my way to give Storm a bollocking because we were missing a whole page of prompts for the afternoon group session and I…I…
I should have said no. I should have put an end to everything, even if it had meant that I had shot myself in the foot.
I was scared of everything, but mostly I was scared of myself.
And right there was someone leaving the office with tears running down their face. I didn’t know their name either, and that was… I was…
I was frightened. Terrified. Horrified at the surge in my stomach, because any second now, I would throw up all over myself. Even so, I moved my feet. One step in front of the other. Moving. Getting things done.
The production office wasn’t empty. Instead the chairs were occupied by strangers in suits. Faces I hadn’t seen before, and there was Kirsten with a face full of smarmy thunder.
