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itallcomesdown · 4 years ago

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TGI Tuesday

Something intensely un-good was happening to Yvonne.

She was missing calls. Daydreaming. Humming and smiling to herself.

These were not normal.

Yvonne didn't notice the change at first but, looking back, she knew when it started.

It had started four days prior, on a Tuesday. Worst day of the week because you haven't braced for it like Monday, it's pre-the-work-week-hump and it always feels like there's three years before lunch but then 6 second until EOD.

Anyway, it's a Tuesday. Yvonne is wearing Tuesday-ish clothes. Nothing fancy. A little bookish, a little muted. No meetings, no lunches, no plans.

Just a fucking Tuesday.

Except not just a fucking Tuesday because that was the day she walks in. Like a warm breeze in autumn, full of non-specific nostalgia and hope for a little more good weather.

Damn. That kind of flowery bullshit was also not normal. This was clearly getting worse...

She walks in like it was nothing. Like she was not heartbreak waiting to happen. she walks in, right, and just smiles.

Who does that? Who smiles like that? Like- Stop. Yvonne put a heavy lid on that little line of evocative imagery.

So, she smiles. But not at her. She was smiling at Yvonne's colleague, Adam.

Adam was a perfectly nice guy but Yvonne spent as little time with him as she could. It wasn’t personal, it was just better if she kept her coworkers at arms length. Life is too short to spend it doing drinks with Lisa from accounts. Again, nothing personal.

The smiling spreads ripples around the office. Everyone was hot and bored so this new energy was invigorating. The urge to smile infects some but mostly it sparks whispers.

Yvonne's desk mates gossiped around her. They'd grown too weary of her polite brevity to try to include her but this time her ears tuned in.

From hushed snippets, she pieced together that this was some kind of relative of Adam's, staying with him for a few days. Apparently Adam had been lobbying for time off to play host to this highly favoured relative but it fell through. When talk shifted to whoever's early labour torpedoed Adam's plan, Yvonne switched off again. She hadn't even realised anyone was pregnant and obviously she was too late to invest in that story line.

Adam's whole body lit up at the sight of his family member standing near the entrance of the open plan office. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to describe their movements towards each other as "bounding", not unlike littermates reunited after a long separation. But surely these two had seen each other that morning?

Yvonne picked up her mug, along with the pretense of nonchalance, and walked over to the small crowd that had formed around her colleague and his new visitor. She didn't want to get too close, she just wanted to bask in the warmth of her- Nope. She rapped her fingers against the plan white cup, trying to drown out her softer self.

Lost in her attempts to regulate her emotions, Yvonne didn't notice that she was in the middle of a plan being hatched. The relative had come to pick Adam up for lunch and extended the invitation to any willing party in the office. It'd be a short walk to a street food market then a leisurely stroll through a park on their way back.

A tap on her shoulder nudged Yvonne out of her daze.

Was she coming?

To?

Before she heard the answer, that smile caught her eye. This time, it's full brilliance was directed at her.

She nodded without internalising what she was agreeing to. It didn't matter. She would walk a thousand miles for that smile. Fuck.

The pack scattered and regrouped in the time it took Yvonne to remember that she needed to put her mug back. She got swept up in the mass exodus before she made it to her desk. Someone took her cup out of her hand and spirited it away as they hustled her out of the office. It was an ambitious trip, they had to make good time on the first leg or they'd have to rush back.

The cheery horde funneled down the stairs and out the door into the open air, chatting amongst themselves and around Yvonne. She was not a regular fixture at non-mandatory work social events so she fell through the cracks as friendship groups found each other. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She could spend the time thinking about what to do with the meal she'd brought from home that was sitting in the communal fridge.

Arms folded and shoulders tight, she ran through her options in her mind. Would it keep til the next day? Should she take it home and eat it? Maybe if she just bought a drink at this food market, she could eat her lunch at her desk while finishing her reports...?

One of the splinter groups slowed to let Yvonne catch up and the apparent leader struck up a conversation. Had she ever been to the market before? Did she have any food allergies? Was there something she was hoping to find?

Yvonne sense the group wanted more than her three short no's so she added a little colour. She was a fan of spicy food and had once gone to a food festival which featured competitive eating. She had, on the spur of the moment, decided to try her hand but came 3rd from last out of ten.

The group seemed more impressed than she expected! They all congratulated her on trying, each insisting they would have passed out if given anything hotter than supermarket sweet chili sauce. Yvonne felt her own smile tugging at her lips but she didn't let herself feel it.

Getting to the market took less time than expected and Yvonne had been too busy small talking to finish meal planning. It didn't matter though because she never would have envisioned the array of options. It was almost overwhelming and made worse by the heat of the sun which seemed to linger at its peak long after noon.

Someone from the splinter group fell into step with Yvonne and began chatting energetically about a particular stalls which specialised in gluten free fried chicken. The sauces were apparently to die for but this person had avoid one of the options because it had a five chili rating. May Yvonne would like to give that one a go?

Yvonne didn't know how to say no to this new, earnest friend. They'd listened to her, thought about what she would like and then came forward with an idea for her. She'd have to eat her packed lunch for dinner and muscle through these wings to avoid awkwardness but honestly, Yvonne wasn't mad at it.

The wing stall was a little deeper into the market than the stalls most of the group had picked. Yvonne followed closely behind her workmate. Bobbing as they bobbed and weaving as they weaved. It was only a few moments but something about the synchronised movements felt fun, though Yvonne couldn't put her finger on the memory that was causing it.

Before she could fully assess, Yvonne bumped into her colleague who had abruptly stopped to greet someone. Actually, two people. Adam and his relative were a metre away and beaming. Yvonne felt sick.

She was completely caught off guard. All these new feelings and interactions had pushed the original purpose of this excursion out of her mind. Now, faced with the object of her curiousity and with hardly any buffer between them, Yvonne was beginning to regret her decision to leave the safety of her desk.

Adam spear headed the unification of the two pairs into one, hungry super-group. They were both looking for the wing stall and his relative, a cousin, was keen to try the hottest sauce available. What a wonderful coincidence! Obviously this merger had been pre-ordained. They would search as a unit. Eight eyes were better than four.

Yvonne's arms crossed themselves over her chest. She hadn't even noticed them relaxing down to her side but the tension was back. Adam was keen to introduce her to Jules who was keen to say her name over and over as part of a memory trick. Six to make it stick...s. Everyone chuckled.

Ali, Adam, Jules and Yvonne. From 13, to 2, to 4, but still no food. Time was ticking away.

Ali took charge of the expedition in peak Ali-fashion, or at least what appeared to be a pretty consistent pattern of behaviour over the 20 minutes Yvonne had observed. Being the only two who had ever see the intended destination, Adam and Ali paired up to lead the pack. It was a second or two before Yvonne realised what that meant.

If you've ever seen a dog chase a car and then have no idea what to do when the car stopped, Yvonne was the dog. Feeling infinitely foolish and clinically awkward, she wordlessly fell into step with the reason she was out in the sun, hunting an elusive chicken wing vendor on a Tuesday afternoon.

Jules seemed content to maintain the silence but with far less observable angst. Yvonne pondered the causal relationship between hotness and being able to withstand heat because, while she was painfully aware of the sweat under her rather flimsy blouse, Jules seemed icy cool in an uncomfortably thick hoodie. While Yvonne's hair clung to the moisture from her scalp, Jules' shoulder length locks seemed completely unaffected.

Yvonne realised that Jules had noticed her stares later than she should have. There was that fucking smile again. If her cheeks could glow red, they would. They talked. It was nice. Jules was staying with Adam until paperwork for a rental was approved. Adam had a spare room and loved having guests, it gave him an excuse to do tourist shit. He had a surprising fondness for kitsch.

Jules had the kind of voice you wanted to listen to and a laugh you wanted to share and hair you wanted to run your fingers through and lips- You get the picture. Jules drew you in then made you feel like you were meant to be there.

They walked and talked and smiled and laughed and bumped into each other as they maneuvered through the crowd. Yvonne's heart didn't know whether to race or jump for joy so instead it just pumped hard enough for her to feel it in her earlobes. If only the hour could last forever.

That wistful thought snapped Yvonne back to reality. She stopped. Where were Ali and Adam? Where was the rest of the group? What was the time?

Gone, gone and too late to keep hunting for the stall. She would have to walk pretty briskly to make it back on time. Jules quickly understood her wordless panic and grasped her upper arm to reassure her and then grabbed her hand, leading the way.

Half walking half running, they made it back to the main doors with enough time for Yvonne to catch her breath. More laughter. They could both do with paying more attention to their cardio.

Maybe they could be workout buddies?

Yvonne grinned, nodding enthusiastically as she breathed deeply. She had a couch to 5k app on her phone that she had never opened. Jules asked to see it so she obliged.

As she handed over the unlocked device, Yvonne noticed a familiar face in the distance. It was Adam and Ali, each carrying a pair of boxes and mildly confused expressions. They'd forged ahead but didn't notice the separation until they had reached their destination. Once there, Ali ordered while Adam called Jules. The minutes ticked away so eventually they decided to head back to home base.

Yvonne sincerely apologised for wasting their time and reached for her phone, intending to pay them back on the spot for the food, but Jules pulled it just out of her grasp.

"It was my fault, I owe all of you so I'll get you back for today and then I'll take you all out for lunch again this week?"

She was about to protest but then Yvonne noticed something pass between the cousins. Ali opened his mouth to respond but Adam spoke over him. It was fine, he and Ali had managed to eat as they walked so Jules shouldn't worry about them.

"I guess that leaves just me and you."

They'd been texting and calling everyday since then. It was sickening. The make-up lunch got pushed into the weekend then became a dinner then a dinner before a small comedy show. A full on date but without the word.

In the time between that Tuesday afternoon and the Saturday evening Yvonne had planned 6 different outfits, two comprising of clothes she panic bought on Thursday. One included a heeled boot that she had to fish out from under her bed. None of them fit like she wanted them to.

By the time Jules was 20 minutes away, Yvonne had pulled together a 7th option that she convinced herself would do. They had met on a Tuesday where Yvonne had dressed like a Tuesday so all she had to do was look a little better but not so drastically different that she looked like she was trying too hard.

The Final Outfit gave solid Thursday afternoon vibes.

Nothing fancy. A little fun, a little playful. Some sparkle, some flair, some skin.

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itallcomesdown · 4 years ago

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Cloud 9s

The waves, ever so gently colliding into one another as they collapsed onto the beach, provided the perfect soundtrack to Nicky's breakdown.

Not too loud, not too harsh.

Soft and low like the tears running down her cheeks.

This wasn't Nicky’s first time weeping at the edge of the ocean. In fact, she was well into the double digits at this point and likely to hit triple before she closed out her third decade.

The first time she made the short drive to the shore for the express purpose of crying, she'd felt a little ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with her bedroom but something drew her to the drama of grey skies and sea breezes.

That's one of the perks of living by the water, depressive episodes seem more cinematic.

Today's helping of woe was served up by a call from her mother which, if you read a transcript, should have been totally normal but was, as always, specifically designed to destroy her.

"Darling."

Nicky cringed but replied sweetly. She could only hope to survive by mirroring her mother's tone.

"Darling, I'm so glad to hear from you. Your father and I do worry so much."

The first blow.

What was there to worry about? Her parents had checked in with her twice a week, every week, for years and Nicky had never shared even a passing comment that would indicate she was anything other than perfectly happy.

Now, was she? No, of course not. She was regularly crying by herself at the beach, but her parents didn't know that. Nobody knew that.

Nicky gave the verbal equivalent of a hand wave as a response. Life was all sunshine.

"Are you sure? You don't sound well."

She sounded the same as she had sounded the last time her mother had insisted that she'd sounded unwell. The same as all the times her mother had insisted she’d sounded unwell which was every time they spoke.

Another spoken hand wave. The salty air was in her throat, nothing more.

"I did say when you decided to move up there that the sea air would be bad for your lungs."

Lungs! How had this become about lungs? Last time it was "something something, microscopic sand particles are lacerating your vocal chords".

Nicky couldn't get the image of sliced, white bands out of her dreams for a week.

"You need to see someone or it will get worse. I'll speak to Dr Kline and see if she knows anyone you can go to down there."

Why?! From 16 words spoken over a patchy internet connection, her mother had decided that intervention was necessary.

Nicky’s chest tightened as she made a mental note to avoid clearing her throat for the rest of the call lest it fan the flames in her mother's mind. She kept her voice even in her response but made sure to not attempt firmness as she insisted that she was fine. Resistance only strengthened her mother's resolve.

"Jerry, remind me give Marsha a call tomorrow about Nicky's lungs."

Nicky imagined her father, somewhere off camera, giving a silent thumbs up to his wife.

Marsha Kline was not a doctor of medicine. She was a wonderful woman and a very accomplished professor of art history who had been friends with Nicky’s mother for longer than Nicky had been alive. Dr Kline was also very convinced that western medicine was a death cult and any medication not administered in tea form was bad for you.

"Don't roll your eyes, Nicky. I'm only doing my job as your mother. Someone has to look after you."

Blow 5?

The subtle difference between "out for" and "after" in a sentence like that would go unnoticed by most, but Nicky had been playing this game with her mother for all of time. Her mother used "out for" when referring to all adults except Nicky.

Now, you might think that's totally reasonable. Mother's always look after their children and that doesn't mean the semantic difference is some kind of dig. Except Nicky was the oldest of three children and the only one who her mother felt needed looking after.

"You did roll them, Nicky. I'm not going to argue, but you did. I used to be able to hear it in your voice over the phone but now that we are on Soom I can see it."

Nicky bit her tongue and tried to keep her jaw relaxed.

Where had the call gone wrong this time?

She should have suggested the call to Dr Kline herself. That way her mother wouldn't have been primed to fight about it.

At least this time she let "Soom" slide.

"Anyway, your sister and I had a lovely chat yesterday. The boys are doing great, she and Pat are looking really lean with the marathon coming up. Have you spoken to her?"

Marriage, children, weight. The self-esteem trifecta, all in one beautifully benign sentence. Nicky almost admired the efficiency.

Claire should have been born first. She was third in birth order but seemed to have decided from an early age to reach every available milestone before Nicky could make a meaningful attempt.

"You really should talk to her more. And James. Both of them really worry about you."

At this point, Nicky had accepted that she would be going to the beach as soon as the call was over. Why waste a day or two trying to hold it together when all she would be thinking about is the family meeting she hadn't been invited to where everyone did the sad head tilt as they talked about her.

"James is always saying he's happy to have you if you need somewhere to stay."

Somewhere to stay.

Nicky had a perfectly lovely apartment with her own office, a parking space and a gorgeous view but because she didn't have a mortgage, her family talked about her as if she was homeless.

"It doesn't have to be long term. Just until you're on your feet"

Would this be after her newly signed 2-year lease or would James buy that out for her?

"I'm sure he could afford it."

He probably could.

"You don't have to. I'm just putting it out there so you don't feel stuck and alone."

If Nicky had to pick a title for her autobiography, it would be "Stuck and Alone". Even at work where everyone was different from each other, she felt completely out of place. Like a puzzle piece you jam into the wrong section because it looks like it should work but when you take it in as part of the picture, something's off.

"You said you would think about it last time. I know you, you're stubborn but now is not the time for stubbornness. People are trying to help you."

The hardest part about these calls would always be having to defend her contentment when it seemed like everyone else thought she was drowning. Nicky wasn't sad about the life she had built for herself. She was sad that it seemed too small and pathetic for those she loved.

"Just call your siblings. If you've lost their numbers, I'll send them to you. Jerry, remind me to send Nicky the numbers."

Nicky sometimes distracted herself by imagining her father as a sort of humanoid smart speaker with steely mesh for skin, warm glowing eyes and a permanently erect thumb that shone green when a command had been accepted.

The speaker was called Greymax and it always made Nicky smile.

"What's funny? I know you think I'm a silly old woman so you might as well let your laugh out."

Nicky exaggerated her eye roll and sighed. It broke the tension and they both chuckled a bit but they probably couldn't tell you why. Sadness lingered behind both smiles.

"Anyway, nothing to report on this side since our last chat so I'll let you go. I'm sure you have lots of work to do for your fancy new show."

Nicky performed pleasantries with her cheek between her teeth.

It took her less than twelve minutes to reach her usual spot from the end of the call, a personal best, and less than twenty seconds to achieve full body sobs, another personal best.

The actual crying wasn't particularly intense on this occasion. Hard crying just added physical hurt to the emotional despair.

One time, she had attracted the attention of a couple of youths on what looked like a first date. They were shy and gentle but visibly concerned. Nicky was mortified.

From then on she sat in a partially enclosed opening on the side of a sheer rock face and avoided excessive wailing. Sometimes she'd get a curious bird or a tiny crustacean but, for the most part, human contact had been limited to surprised stares.

The time on her phone told her that she had been out there for twenty minutes. That was more than enough for one day and should tide her over until the following week if everything stayed calm at work.

Nicky imagined herself, in another universe, choosing to jog through her inner anguish. Smartphone strapped to her upper arm, smartwatch keeping track of her movements and bluetooth earphones delivering alternate universe pop into her ears. Was that worth a try?

Imagination Nicky was exactly as good at her job and bad at relationships, she just had a comfortable pair of running shoes. That was totally attainable but Real Nicky had always resisted. Crying sucked but it was cleansing and felt natural. Running felt like someone else's thing that she was putting on to prove a point.

When Nicky got back home, she ordered an inexpensive but well reviewed pair of running shoes. The product description painted a vivid picture of how impossibly soft these shoes were, at a fraction of the price charged by other brands. Confirmed buyers wrote formulaically about never needing another shoe again and buying pairs for friends. Nicky never read any of that though because she chose them exclusively for the price and availability for next day delivery.

The shoes arrived but remained in their box for days. Nicky passed them every time she entered her bedroom, making a mental note to try them on, even if only to check the fit, but quickly forgot.

Her mother's next call came and went without incident. A neighbour had to be hospitalised and their pet's needed a temporary home so the entire call was consumed by intro to the pup and solemn predictions regarding the neighbours fate. The prognosis was pretty good but Nicky's mother was certain big pharma was gunning for him. Dr Kline had been consulted, of course.

Teas had been ordered and special instructions repeated in hushed tones but the call was fine.

Nicky was fine.

Usually, the down time between calls was a safe zone where Nicky could stock up on the mundane joys of life but the shoes had been ordered so the universe needed to make sure they were used.

James sent a picture to the group chat. Two little lines on a white stick. Congratulations all around. Wonderful news!

That evening the phone rang.

"I'm trying to convince your brother to move into a bigger house so there is room for you and the baby but Ryan is acting as if I've gone crazy. Can you believe it?"

Nicky finally got to the beach after an hour and a bit. Turns out the shoes really were baby clouds with laces, but it's hard to run when your chest is heaving.

Next time she would have to drive to the beach, then cry while running.

Fewer witnesses and, again, more cinematic.

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