by Chloe Seager
‘Uh. YES, Mum. I want to come.’
‘All right,’ she barked, pointing her toothbrush at me. ‘But I better be bloody relaxed when I get home, Emma. There will be no ruining of my relaxation, do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ I squeaked.
‘You will be quiet as a mouse, all weekend,’ she went on.
‘As a mute mouse,’ I said, nodding very fast.
‘As a dead mouse,’ she said, and retreated.
Emma Nash @Em_Nasher
I’m officially going to a HOTEL! A fancy pants hotel, with massages and table linen and probably mattress toppers.
Emma Nash @Em_Nasher
Mmmm. Mattress toppers.
Saturday, 6 December
posted by EditingEmma 12.21
Mum being nice didn’t last long. This morning she woke me up by throwing something at my head.
It turned out to be a box of chocolates.
‘Another delivery,’ she spat.
‘Mmm, thanks,’ I said, popping a chocolate in my mouth.
‘I thought you told this boy to STOP?’
‘I did!!!’ I cried, through a mouthful of orange creme.
‘It’s getting a bit weird now, Emma.’
‘I know it is! I don’t want this any more than you do!’
‘She says, smeared in chocolate.’
‘Look,’ I started, ‘I can’t help having a reflex reaction to chocolate, Mum. I’ll call Holly again this afternoon.’
‘You’d better,’ she said, and left the room.
She came back in two seconds later, grabbed a chocolate, and left again.
My call with Holly went like this:
‘Holly?’
‘Emma Nash, Beans and Mash, what can I do for you?’
‘Um…’
‘Or do you prefer Greens and Splash? Queens and Rash?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘I was just wondering if you’d spoken to your friend Adam yet?’
‘Ah, Adam Day, Spoons and Hay.’
‘Holly?! Did you?’
‘Yeah, I did. It made him like you even more.’
‘I…what?!’
‘He likes when girls play hard to get.’
‘But that’s the thing, I’m not playing hard to get.’
‘All right, I’ll pass on the message.’
‘Yeah, but, can you pass it on seriously? Because I really mean it.’
‘I’m always serious.’
NOT reassuring.
Right.We’re on the way to Mum’s relaxing spa weekend now, away from memories of Godlike Dev and where Adam and his Matrix coat and bizarre gifts can’t find me. I can just unwind and stop thinking about EVERYTHING.
posted by EditingEmma 15.01
Massages Are Weird
I was really looking forward to my very first massage, but, in all honesty, I’m not sure I’ll be doing it again. When the lady came in she was talking in very breathy tones. At first I thought maybe she’d just run up the stairs or something, and needed a moment to recover, but then she kept talking like that and I figured it was supposed to be relaxing.
‘Soh, Hemma,’ she breathed, ‘howh would youhhh like to feeehhhl after todayhhh?’
‘Uh…relaxed?’ I asked.
She nodded, as if I had said something very interesting.
Has anyone ever given her a different answer?
‘Soh, Hemma, sniff these forhh me, what scent arehh you drawhhn to?’
She put two different oils on the back of each hand and waved them under my nose.
‘Uh, the lemony one?’
She nodded again, as if it all made perfect sense.
‘Of course, the relaxahhhtion oil.’
What do all the other oils do?
I was already quite baffled by this point, but then she put some quite aggressive animal-noise soundtrack on and left the room. She said to lie on the table, but she gave me NO INSTRUCTIONS.
How undressed are you supposed to get for a massage?!?!
I stood there flapping about, getting incredibly stressed. (Clearly the oils weren’t doing their job.) The monkeys screeching weren’t really helping, either. Is finding yourself in the middle of a rainforest supposed to be relaxing? Because I think, if I did find myself there, I’d probably be dead within about ten minutes.
I didn’t have my phone so I couldn’t google it. In the end, I just went for it and took everything off, and lay down under the towel. With the rainforest sounds I felt like a vulnerable piece of meat, waiting for a tiger to come and maul me.
When she re-entered it didn’t get much better. She just sort of…stroked me a lot, which was kind of weird because I have no idea about this woman, apart from that her name is ‘Dorothy’. I started wondering a lot about ‘Dorothy’ and her life; what were her hopes and dreams? Had she always wanted to be a masseuse? Did she have that special someone in her life? What was her relationship like with her mother? Then I tried imagining it was someone I knew, like, uh, Gracie. But that was even weirder.
Next she laid some hot stones on me and they REALLY BLOODY HURT. I had to bite my lip from calling out in pain. I was thinking, Is she doing it wrong?! Is she actually going to murder me? Am I going to be on the news tomorrow morning? ‘Girl hot-stoned to death by murderous masseuse.’
THEN, joy of joys, she started pressing the stones a bit harder into my back and I really, really needed to fart. I have to say, lying naked in a dark room with a stranger pressing some hot objects into your back, and trying really, really hard to keep a fart in, is not particularly my idea of a ‘relaxing experience’.
posted by EditingEmma 16.31
I Think I Have A Problem
So, I came out of the massage after having an hour away from my phone, and was getting a bit…twitchy.
Then I got even more twitchy. Because when I did get my phone back, I realized that the Wi-Fi in this place is not working…and neither is my data.
I tried the on-off trick, i.e. the only thing I know how to do, and still nothing. I asked at reception and the lady said, ‘Have you tried the on-off trick?’
Figures.
Then I started sort of…convulsing. Going all red. Wanting to shake things.
Mum said, ‘What’s the matter? Why are you fidgeting?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I whimpered.
I think I might have a problem…with controlling myself on the internet. Well, what’s new? I hear you ask. Yes, absolutely, controlling myself on the internet has always been one of my number one problems. But the thing is, I think, maybe, I foolishly thought that because I wasn’t stalking Leon any more… my relationship with the internet was actually fine now. When, in actual fact…
It’s not.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been spotting the signs… I mean, like when Gracie said she only looks at her Instagram ten times a day, like that was a lot, or something. I didn’t know exactly how much I check my various profiles, but I suspected it was a lot more than ten. But now, sitting here jerking and trembling because I can’t connect, I’m wondering just how many it actually is. It’s only been an hour or so and I’m already like this… What’s wrong with me?!
posted by EditingEmma 17.03
Painful Confirmation
Just out of interest… And, you know, because I have nothing else to do… I went onto my own internet history.
Dear.
God.
I don’t even want to write it down.
This morning, between the hours of 9 a.m. and 1 p.m., I checked my own Instagram…
TWENTY-SIX TIMES.
Twenty-six times in four hours!!! Oh my God, if you added up all the rest of the day… OK, so let’s say thirty times in four hours. That’s once every eight minutes.
Every. Eight. Minutes.
And how many hours in a day are there, when I’m not sleeping? Sixteen?
16 X 60 = 960 minutes. (Thank you, calculator.)
960 divide
d by 8 is…
120.
A HUNDRED AND TWENTY.
A HUNDRED AND TWENTY?!
I check my own Instagram, on average, a hundred and twenty times a day?!
Oh my God. I’ve never actually recorded how often I do it before. When you click and take a quick look you can just sort of forget it ever happened, but here staring me in the face is raw evidence of my sadness. I don’t even go to the toilet this many times a day!!!
This surely, surely can’t be right, can it? Can it?!
posted by EditingEmma 20.16
At Dinner. Hour Five Of Phonelessness
‘How was your massage?’ I asked, clenching my fingers.
‘Lovely, thanks,’ said Mum.
Silence.
‘How was yours?’ she asked.
‘Oh, yes…great.’
‘Good.’
Silence.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked.
I looked up, desperately.
‘Mmmhmmm,’ I snivelled.
Dear God. Fifteen more hours left.
Still… at least this will bring down my daily phone-checking average. Looking at the statistics from today, I might almost be considered normal.
posted by EditingEmma 20.29
I Am Never Having A Massage EVER AGAIN
So apparently… APPARENTLY… I wasn’t meant to take all my clothes off for the massage.
Oh my God.
I was just saying to Mum, ‘I don’t know if it’s for me. I’m just not sure I feel comfortable being totally naked.’
And Mum practically choked on a bit of her chicken. She literally cannot stop laughing. I’m in the toilet right now, because her laughing is just too annoying.
‘You…you…you took your pants off,’ she wheezed.
‘Was I not supposed to?!?!’
‘NO!!!!’ she yelled, rocking back and forth.
‘Oh my God!!!’ I yelled. ‘WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME?!’
‘I didn’t think you’d take your PANTS off!’ she practically screamed. ‘You strange, strange child!’
‘Oh my God.’ I digested this news. ‘But I was under the towel. Do you think she noticed?!’
‘YES!’ cried Mum.
‘Oh Dorothy. I’m so sorry.’ I buried my head in my hands. ‘Why didn’t she say something?!’
‘She’s probably…’ Mum choked.‘She’s probably just going to file the sexual harassment complaint as we speak.’
‘Oh my God.’
I don’t believe this.
I made Mum SWEAR never to tell anyone. EVER.
posted by EditingEmma 23.30
Parents Always Spot When Something Is Wrong
When she’d finished her chicken, and laughing about the incident which we will never mention ever again, Mum cleared her throat.
‘Emma,’ she said suddenly. ‘I want to talk to you.’
I put my fork down. ‘About what?’
‘About you.’
‘What about me?!’ I squeaked. Did she know about my habit?
‘I feel like I need to say something,’ she went on. ‘I try to stay out of things as much as possible, except when I feel you’re really spiralling out of control and, well…’
‘Oh my God!’ I yelled. ‘Was this why you brought me here?! To make me go cold turkey?!’
‘What?’ Mum frowned. ‘I mean Leon and Steph.’
My stomach clenched.
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘I think cutting both of them out isn’t really working for you.’
‘I’ve not cut them out,’ I said. ‘Anyway, Leon’s the one who stopped speaking to me. Again.’
‘I think you’ve stopped speaking to each other, and it’s not healthy.’
‘But I’m trying to get over it. That’s how you get over something.’
She nodded. ‘I know. And I think it’s much better than you going out with different boys, left, right and centre. But I think getting over someone and cutting them out only really works if you resolve stuff first. But everything’s just been left all up in the air with you two.’
I opened my mouth. I closed my mouth.
‘I’m speaking from experience,’ she said. ‘Well, put it this way. The spell-casting didn’t work. But after I sent Olly that message about the bear—’ she glowered at me ‘—we actually ended up talking. It gave me some closure and…I’m feeling much better.’
‘I’m really glad things are going well for you and the pumpkin carver, Mum.’ I smiled. ‘You deserve it.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled dreamily. Probably thinking about his aubergine penguins.
‘And then Steph. I know sometimes actually telling someone how you feel can seem worse in the moment than just burying it. But if you don’t do it, then it gets worse over time.’
I picked up my fork again, and started shovelling food in my mouth. She can’t make me talk with a mouth full of mashed potato.
Now I’m in bed, still thinking about it. And there’s absolutely nothing to distract me. No Netflix. No updates. No pictures. Not even any of Claudia’s accolades to make me feel bad about myself. Nope… Sitting here all alone, next to Mum snoring in the dark.
I guess…ugh. I hate to admit it, but maybe she’s right. Gracie and I let our relationship go sour, and then when we had that big, horrible fight it was awful…but it did make things so much better in the end. Should I be trying to talk to Leon and Steph? In my defence, I did try! With both of them! I mean… I tried a bit. The responsibility isn’t just down to me, is it? And it seems like both of them are fine without me. I mean, that’s the assumption I’ve been going on.
Aren’t they?
Oh God, the thought of actually talking to either of them about stuff, now, feels so intimidating I can barely contemplate it. Sleep now.
Sunday, 7 December
posted by EditingEmma 13.04
Just got in the car to go home. As we were leaving, Dorothy came out to speak to the receptionist and our eyes locked for just a moment. I’m pretty sure I saw fear in them.
I can never, ever return to this hotel.
posted by EditingEmma 15.06
HOME
HOME. INTERNET. I’m pretty sure I just made up for my one hundred and twenty checks per day in the past half an hour.
Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking of this as a bad thing… Maybe…maybe all this tapping is actually building on important abilities? I mean, it must be training my hands, right? My manual dexterity is probably at the level of a brain surgeon’s.
Anyway, Mum’s been nagging me about putting our photos up so I’d better do it. I don’t know why she cares so much. She’s only got about three followers. And one of them is Uncle Ralph. I’d pay good money for Uncle Ralph to unfollow me.
posted by EditingEmma 17.27
Photos posted. In all seriousness, what I would usually do now is just sit and stare at the likes coming in. Is this where I’m going wrong?! Should I put my phone down and forget about it?
Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll just to log off for a bit…relax… No big deal.
posted by EditingEmma 17.47
Number of Times I Checked My Own Various Profiles Since Deciding Not To
IIII IIII IIII
Ughhhhh. OH MY GOD. Fifteen times in twenty minutes?! If you include all the various platforms…THAT’S MORE THAN EVERY EIGHT MINUTES. That’s…EVERY FOUR!!!
I must stop this. I don’t know how, but…surely I’m getting old faster this way? Pouring all this time down an invisible time sink? Surely my wrinkles are going to grow all over my face without me even noticing?
Right. Phone going away. AWAY.
posted by EditingEmma 18.52
This is unbelievable. Bloody unbelievable. I just logged back on (after impressively waiting ONE WHOLE HOUR) and I had looaads of notifications!! I was thinking, I bet my funny moose impression next to the stuffed moose head went down a real treat. I clicked on them and thought, hmm, that’s strange, loads of people I don’t know hav
e commented. Have people shared my moose impression?! (It was pretty funny.) Then I saw Heather had commented on something: ‘Oh Allie you look beautiful!’
And the penny dropped.
All the notifications were for Mum.
ALL the notifications. Were for MUM.
I mean…not all of them. Crazy Holly was a real fan of my moose photo. But seriously?! Why is everyone loving this photo of Mum just standing by a windowsill?! WHAT IS SO GREAT ABOUT STANDING. I can stand!!! I have been known to stand all over the place! But how many people can channel the soul of another species in a way that ‘makes one feel as if they were really a large ungulate, standing upon a Canadian mountain range, contemplating the ability to close one’s own nostrils’. (Holly Barnet). Aghhh. When did she get so many more followers?!
How does she know this many people???!
Thirty-one likes for the (stupid) windowsill picture and six for the moose. Not that I’m keeping score.
posted by Editing Emma 20.58
FORTY likes for the windowsill and still six for the moose. Oh this really leaves a sour taste.
posted by Editing Emma 21.01
Yes! Seven for the moose!
Oh, what? No. It’s the same notification I’ve already seen, but it came up on my phone as well as my laptop.
That’s so cruel.
posted by EditingEmma 22.38
Fifty-five likes for the windowsill, still six for the moose, and my humiliation is complete.
Thank you, and goodnight.
Monday, 8 December
posted by EditingEmma 07.51
Had an actual dream about getting another notification.
Who am I?
posted by EditingEmma 16.05
No. Nonononono
I was just walking towards the gate with Gracie and Faith, when I looked up ahead and spotted something potentially terrifying. Now I’m lurking behind the gym, which is a bit awkward because I can see everyone inside doing their exercise. I’m pretty sure Willie Thomas thinks I’m checking out his physique.
posted by EditingEmma 16.38
Gracie and Faith finally clocked that they’d lost me (which took them a whole three minutes, by the way). They came back to where I was standing.