‘… As I’ve said, these feelings only seem to be getting stronger, and it doesn’t seem to be having a good impact on your mental health. Your company understands these things often have a time limit. It’s not like you’ll get fired, you’ll just step into something different. Something less in your face.’
I’m a bit panicked now. I don’t want to stop my shifts. I’d only ever been a project manager before coming to We Are Here, lost and scared and not recovered from Ryan. But, after a year, and after organising the training of so many volunteers, I’d been asked if I was interested in training to do shifts too. It was the first thing that eased the pain a bit. That made me feel worthwhile, rather than a broken pile of pieces. ‘Are you going to tell Mike on me?’
She smiles and shakes her head. ‘You know these slots are confidential. I’m here for you, April, and only you. I’m saying this for your benefit. I can’t force you to stop.’
‘I just don’t think it’s fair, what you’re saying. Making out that my reaction is wrong. I think hating men considering everything men do is a completely normal response. I shouldn’t have to “work on myself”,’ I air quote, ‘in order not to get upset when men routinely rape women.’
She reaches out her finger to punctuate my rant. ‘But they aren’t all the same.’
‘Yes they are!’
Suddenly I’m standing and I’m yelling, with sweat dripping down the back of my legs. I’m also shaking and trying not to cry and my throat feels stitched shut and Carol is looking worried, trying to get me to sit my hot flesh back down on the sticky chair.
It takes a moment or two to pass, for me to gain control of whatever’s just happened. I keep saying ‘I’m fine, honestly I’m fine’, which isn’t very convincing.
‘April,’ she says, once I’m sitting down and my breathing is vaguely back to normal. ‘Be kind to yourself. Maybe at least think about taking a break from your shift work.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a break.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I tell her, when I know I won’t. But I play good employee and allow the supervision to return to normal. Carol and I go through some of my answers to the email questions I found tricky, and we tweak a template answer for the virginity questions that wasn’t quite working.
What if revenge is good?
Do we ever allow ourselves to ask that question? What if turning the other cheek is not the answer? Because I’ll tell you what. I’ve lived my whole life as a girl and I’ve turned so many goddamned cheeks I’m surprised I have any skin left on my face. And yet it’s never once made me feel better. Not like how I feel when I think about Gretel.
‘Do have a think about what I’ve said,’ Carol says when the fifty minutes is up.
‘I will.’ I stand up to go back to the office. I can see Matt waiting through the glass wall, pulling that nervous, ‘trying not to look like I’m about to go into therapy’ face, as he sits on the chair outside. I push through the glass door and high-five him, like we’re on a WWF tag team. ‘You’re up,’ I say. ‘Want some tissues?’
‘You’re hilarious,’ he mutters, but he smiles as he steps in. I hear Carol say, ‘Welcome Matt, take a seat’, before the glass door closes again.
I walk around a bank of desks and arrive at my own, where Katy has left a slice of cake with a note: ‘post supervision treat’. She’s in a meeting, so I can’t thank her. Instead I sit down to emails and more emails, just as my phone vibrates.
Josh: So Gretel, how about we do that thing where we actually meet in person and politely try to decide if we fancy one another?
It’s such a smooth message that you could spread it on toast. Credit where credit is due.
I wait an entire day before I reply.
It’s not even hard. I have back-to-back meetings the rest of the afternoon. I go out for drinks after work, and then meet Kerry, a friend from the charity I used to work for, and we sit through an hour of OKish theatre at Soho Theatre. We go for drinks afterwards and she complains about her husband being so busy and stressed since his promotion.
Megan’s still up when I get in, mood-boarding the launch event she’s just been chucked into doing, magazines cut up and discarded all over the flat, so I stay up and help her, and we finish a bottle of wine, and say we can’t believe we are up this late on a school night, and shit, we’re going to be hungover tomorrow. I fall into bed without taking my make-up off, and wake up way too thirsty at 3.30 a.m., down a pint of water and then manage to get back to sleep, kicking my covers off in the muggy heat. Then I press snooze three times instead of two, which throws off my morning routine, and I have to rush around, layering on the deodorant because this heat will not break, and run out the door to the Tube, the red brick of the posh flats blurring past me, thinking how atrocious it is to be running when it’s this hot. I collapse onto a train and wipe the sweat off the bits of me it’s appropriate to wipe in public. The carriage roars into the tunnel and is swallowed by darkness, and it’s only then that I think of Joshua and of his invitation.
I read back the message. It still makes me smile.
Gretel hits the ‘reply’ button.
Gretel: Sure, why not?
Joshua suggests he and Gretel meet on Tuesday, but Gretel can’t do Tuesday, even though she can. In fact, Gretel switches her drinks with her university friend, Vicky, to Tuesday so now she’s not even lying about being busy, she is just actually busy, being so bloody great at living life. Gretel suggests Thursday instead, because it’s important she show Joshua that she is interested in meeting him. She doesn’t want to put him off just yet, but he also needs to know how busy and great she is. Joshua suggests they go out for cocktails at this place he knows. She says sure. Thursday it is. Cocktails it is. Can we make it six thirty instead of six because I have a thing? It’s not real, she just needs him to know she’s the sort of girl who has things.
• Test One – Gretel’s Guide to First Dates
* * *
First dates are nerve-wracking, so it’s totally natural to be nervous. Just don’t show your nerves, all right? That will put them off. Meet somewhere fun to show off how fun you are because you really want them to see you’re fun. Dinner is a bit too formal. A cinema is not right because you can’t talk to one another, and you won’t be able to entrance him with all your eyelash fluttering and hiding the more negative parts of your personality. Maybe a casual drink? But somewhere interesting. You know what? It’s sort of better if you let him decide where you go. Remember, it’s the first date, you have to be casual.
Of course you should make an effort with your appearance, but don’t make it obvious you’ve made too much effort. Not too sexy, not too prudish. Remember – channel Goldilocks. Stay in the middle of the sexy spectrum. Stay in the middle of every spectrum. Be as bland as you fucking can to trick him into wanting to spend more time with you. With all that said, it’s really important on a first date to keep the bland chat interesting. The important thing about first-date conversation is that it should be breezy but also create an emotional connection. Dodge the dreaded ‘small talk’ and ask him deeper questions like ‘why?’, and follow that with more ‘whys?’. He will start opening up and he’ll associate the emotional connection with you. If he asks you questions, it’s your chance to show him how cool, and busy, and interesting, and kick-ass, yet sensitive you are. Mention how much you want to travel to Africa and that you’re thinking of booking a ticket soon. All men want to be with a girl who wants to go to Africa. Don’t mention exes. Ever. I mean, duh. Yes, you are both single in your thirties so that means, without a doubt, that somewhere along the line for both of you some shit has gone seriously, painfully, wrong, but now is not the time to acknowledge that elephant in the room! So, keep it light and pretend you want to go to Africa. If you really want to go to Africa, even better! Remember not to swear and steer away from contentious subjects like politics or art or your emotional responses to life’s hardships. Keep it positive!