Saturday for me, spending the day making boring small talk with strangers and eating dry chicken for me. But it isn’t for me, it was never for me, I remind myself, and I put my phone in my bag.
The London streets are empty as I hurry under my umbrella to the station, like the rain is poisonous. I shake my umbrella off into a floor puddle, get a seat on the Tube, and as we career through the tunnel I stare at nothing, wondering how I’m going to make it through this. I remember my initial fantasy – breaking a random man’s heart over an artichoke before dropping the mic and vanishing. I wish I’d had the guts to follow through with it. Maybe if the guy hadn’t been Josh … or maybe I never had it in me anyway.
‘You say that this Gretel is every man’s dream,’ Carol said in our first session the other day. ‘But you’re basing that on your own interpretations of what men want. Do you think maybe Gretel is nothing to do with men, but rather a fantasy for you? The woman you think you could’ve been if you hadn’t met Ryan?’
Joshua’s waiting for me outside WHSmith, cradling a newspaper he’s bought. His hair is wet, childlike and juxtaposed with his suit, and he looks so adorable that I almost can’t walk over and kiss him hello.
‘You look lovely,’ he says, drinking in my effort. ‘Your poor friend though. Raining today.’
‘I know. And they’ve paid a fortune for this big stately place too, so that they can get good photos in the grounds.’
‘It will still be the happiest day of her life though.’
‘Let’s hope.’
‘I bought our tickets while I was waiting.’ He hands me an orange card and I want to hold it to my heart like it’s a precious love-note.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Do you mind if we pick some food up at M&S? I live in fear of being hungry at weddings.’
I over-shop, buying two sandwiches, one pasta salad, crisps, and an overpriced collection of chopped fruit in a plastic cup. Joshua gets a bacon sandwich and a bottle of Coke. The train’s on time, which is noteworthy enough for us both to comment on, and we settle at a table-seat and spread out our picnic. He keeps putting his hand on my knee, leaning over to kiss my neck. We’ve not seen one another all week as I’ve been ripping the plaster off slowly. His physical affection stings like my arm-hair getting caught in the glue.
‘So, what’s been going on at work?’ he asks. ‘Crazy week?’
I nod, stretch my arms, watch the rain splatter the window as we pull out the station. ‘Yeah. I resigned from part of my role,’ I tell him, getting the truth about myself out in little nuggets.
He puts down his sandwich. ‘Wow, what? Are you OK? Which part?’ He rubs my arm to comfort me and it stings again.
‘Just the advisor role. I’m fine. I feel guilty, but also know it’s the right thing to have done.’
‘Oh OK. Woah, though. I thought you really liked that bit of your job?’
‘Yeah, I did. But it was getting too much. I was struggling with how sad it was.’ I raise both eyebrows and shrug, all ‘well, what can you do?’.
Josh’s hand drops off my arm. ‘I had no idea,’ he says slowly.
‘It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.’ And it isn’t. I beat myself up about it for one sleepless night, then I only felt relief. I’m proud of what I did and who I helped, but I don’t want to be angry all the time, afraid all the time, I don’t want to believe that every dog in the world bites, even though they all have teeth.
Joshua stares over my head and at the splattered decoration of rain against the glass. ‘OK, well, I’m glad you’re happy. Sounds like it’s been a bit mad.’
I can sense his pain about being left out of this life development and I put a hand on his arm. To comfort him, to try and make this last day a nice one. ‘Sorry I didn’t tell you,’ I say. ‘It was just a lot for me to digest, and it was all a bit heavy and I didn’t want to burden you with it.’
His eyes are sad when he smiles. ‘But I’m your boyfriend. I’m here for the burdening.’
You won’t be my boyfriend for much longer, I think, and you never were