Aya ran a hand over her forehead. What the hell do I do now?
She noticed that the door to the stern-looking building where Susannah worked was slightly open. Through it, she swore she could see a flash of mocha brown. Was that Susannah and that coat of hers? Aya’s heart began to race. This was her chance.
The chance to heal her broken self-confidence. To erase her humiliation from last time. Aya could do this and get a win. She needed one important win.
She squared her shoulders, swallowed hard, and headed for the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Aya Deserves to Know
Gwen stabbed the buttons on the ticket machine with frantic fingers. Chester’s small train station was busy with chatter and announcements, but all she heard was the tail end of the conversation between Susannah and the bald man, echoing in her head.
Gwen had wanted to hear Susannah’s voice, so she’d moved closer to the doorway in which they stood, ducking behind a van to keep out of their line of sight. That was when she had heard her goddess say, “Well, we can’t fire him for this. Perhaps we can find some sort of loophole in his contract?”
The bald man had replied, “I hope so. If anyone can fix this, it’s you. You’ve gotten rid of more drains on the company than anyone else.” He’d chuckled before adding, “I mean, this young man is quite impossible. His eating disorder isn’t a problem in itself, but the amount of sick days he’s taken because of it risks a dent in the budget. This stays between us, of course.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Discretion is my middle name,” Susannah had said in that confident voice of hers. “I’ll find a way to get rid of him that doesn’t risk the company ending up in a lawsuit. You’re right, he’s an expense and a weak link. We shouldn’t have to put up with that sort of nonsense,” she sniffed. “After all, employment is for people who actually work, not for those who stay home whinging about problems that are only in their heads.”
At that point, she had winked and smirked.
The bald man laughed. “Right as always, Susannah. I knew I could rely on you to help solve this little issue.”
“I live to be of service,” she said in flirty tones. “Ah, hang on, there’s people approaching. We should continue this discussion where we can’t be overheard.”
“Sure, it’s less windy inside anyway!” He replied with a chuckle that suggested that he thought himself very funny.
They went in, leaving Gwen motionless and gobsmacked. Fury crashed over her, robbing her of words and clear thought. It was as if not only the man they were trying to fire had been attacked, but she and everyone else with a mental illness as well. Everyone who fought to get to work but couldn’t always make it.
Of course, there were still plenty of people out there who were prejudiced against those with mental health issues. Discrimination still happened every day across the globe. She didn’t, however, expect people who worked in a human resources company to hold those views or to behave like that. More importantly, she didn’t expect Susannah, who had always seemed respectful and empathetic, to be so bigoted.
To make matters worse, the way Susannah had spoken in that cold tone of voice and with that sneer on her face, it made Gwen want to throw up.
To think I idolised and romanticised that woman.
Now, Gwen couldn’t even find her sexually attractive. Well, she thought as she punched at the ticket machine, this was one way to cure her sadness over not seeing Susannah every morning.
The method may not have been Edward-approved, but her pining was well and truly over.
The machine finally spat out her train ticket back to Stoke-on-Trent. Gwen took it and put it in her bag, only then remembering that she’d bought an open return when she ordered the ticket for this morning. On top of everything else, she was wasting money, too. Wonderful.
In a daze, she checked the departures board and went to the track where her train was currently rolling in.
She boarded her carriage and picked a seat far away from everyone else. That wasn’t hard as it was a worn, old Transport for Wales train. No doubt the commuters would wait for fancier train with plug sockets and an on-board café.
Listlessly, she read the information stickers. First the English translations and then the Welsh, recalling the words and their pronunciations to distract herself. It didn’t work.
Her mind stubbornly stayed in the conversation the train was taking her physically, but certainly not mentally, farther away from. Susannah’s last words echoed still. “Employment is for people who actually work, not for those who stay home whinging about problems that are only in their head.” Gwen wished she’d jumped out from her vantage point and shouted back, “Employment is for everyone, no matter their health. And what’s more, sure the problem is in his head. Just like if he broke his ankle, the problem would be in his ankle. What about it, you callous cow!?”
Her thoughts turned to Aya. She wished so hard that her new friend had left with her. She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. She should have told Aya exactly what Susannah had said, explained how cold and bigoted their crush was. But she’d been in shock, so upset that she couldn’t get the words out.
Unusual for a seasoned windbag like me. Someone alert the media, she thought without any mirth.
Aya deserved to know what Susannah had said. Sure, since she was in full mental health she wouldn’t take it as personally as Gwen, nor would she be able to relate in the same way. She still needed to know.
Gwen got her phone out to text Aya but paused. Aya also had a thicker skin. Not to mention having the habit of saying the wrong things and upsetting people without meaning to. That might be how she would interpret Susannah’s words, a socially clumsy mistake. After all, she hadn’t seen Susannah’s face and heard her tone of voice.
Yes, Aya was sure to react differently than she had. Nevertheless, she’d seen enough of Aya’s kindness and respect for people to believe that she wouldn’t stand for that sort of talk without an apology following it. Or for someone being fired for their illness.
Either way, she needed to know who the woman she lusted after was. Gwen wrote the text.
I’m sorry we argued and for not being able to tell you exactly what she said. I’m still too upset to talk, but I can give you the gist of the conversation I overheard. Basically, they talked about finding a legal loophole to fire a young bloke with an eating disorder who needed to take days off because of it. The bald guy said it could “dent their budget” which I doubt for a big company like that. Anyway, they were really vile about it and particularly Susannah showed no empathy or understanding for someone being what she called “a weak link” and someone who “whinged about problems that are only in their head.”
Gwen sat back and waited for a reply. When it arrived, it wasn’t what she had hoped it would be.
I’m sorry, too, especially for being so harsh with you when you were upset. I guess that made it even harder to talk? Back to what Susannah said. Okay, that’s shitty. Are you sure you heard that right, tho? It wasn’t just banter or some kind of misguided joke? I don’t doubt you, it’s just that context is everything.
Gwen stared at the reply, fury making her body temperature rise. How dare Aya imply that she was overreacting? Or not taking context into account?
She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth for a few seconds, drawing her mind back to her thoughts from before. Wasn’t this what she had expected? That Aya would assume she was being oversensitive and biased?
Gwen put her hand over her chest. Her racing heart was slowing down, fury replaced with sadness. She watched the passing landscape, with its multicoloured autumn leaves falling in droves, as she tried to put herself in Aya Lawson’s shoes.
Aya had so much invested in this. Gwen had hero-worshipped and desired Susannah as a tonic and an inspiration, but Aya had made her a symbol for something much bigger. Aya had connected this crush with her own failures in life, with how everything was going wrong. Gwen was pretty s
ure Susannah was meant to be the thing Aya could control and fix. Something to get her confidence back and help her find her footing again.
She texted back.
No matter the context, there was no mistaking the intent. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to believe me. So, I guess we’ll leave it there. If you have your successful conversation (leading to a successful date) with Susannah, I’m sure you’ll see what she’s like for yourself. When you do, remember that I warned you and please take care of yourself. She’s not a good person and you can do so much better.
Bye. xx
She sent the text and slumped down in her seat, staring forlornly at the screen. She could see why Aya wouldn’t believe her. There was so much at stake for her, and Gwen was just a stranger, one who probably annoyed Aya more than anything else.
Yet, after the day they’d shared and how they’d gotten along so well despite their differences and arguments, Gwen had hoped Aya would trust her, at least enough to want more information. Enough to want to talk this through. Enough to listen.
Gwen rubbed her face, again grateful that she wasn’t wearing make-up. She wanted to rub this whole day away.
With sadness still coursing through her, she begged with her usual mantra that the sadness wouldn’t lead to deeper depression. She didn’t want to sink into that dark ocean again, especially not now when she wouldn’t have her morning encounters with “Mocha” to give her a bright spark in the darkness. Mocha, the unreachable but oh-so polite, beautiful, and impressive role model. How could she have been the small-minded and cruel Susannah all along?! How had Gwen missed that? She threw her phone into her bag with force, stifling a scream of rage. Good, rage was easier to handle than sadness.
The train arrived in Crewe, where she had to get her connection back to Stoke. Gwen got up and marched out of the train and onto the platforms. It was so nice to move. Her shoes stamping hard on the ground reminded her that she was still on her feet and that the rage moving through her could be used as a power source.
She stomped, hands clenched and gaze down, around Crewe station. It wasn’t big, Gwen estimated it had between ten and fifteen tracks, but that still made it larger than Stoke’s robust, red-bricked Victorian one and Chester’s cosy, dark-bricked—but equally Victorian—one. She’d liked Chester station’s dark bricks. Not quite black and not quite brown, but sable, like Aya’s eyes. Gwen forced her unhelpful mind from Aya back to the stations. Back to clomping her rage out.
Both Chester and Stoke’s stations were easy to manoeuvre. Crewe station was not. Not because of its size, but because the train lines were close to each other and some even interlinked. It was like a tightknit spider web of tracks, with stairs and passageways between them. Gwen spent the twenty-minute wait for her next train marching around the small spider web and digesting her thoughts, only pausing to check the board for her track. Her feet moved forward as her mind tried to do the same.
After all, if she could battle depression—with its all-knowing demons created by her own mind—every single day, getting over this part of her life should be easy.
Susannah was in the past.
And Aya… well, she had made her choice. It wasn’t as if they were friends or would ever have to meet again. All that had happened today could be left behind, allowing Gwen to focus on her art, her work, and on battling this current downturn in her mental state.
Gwen stopped by her track. Her train consisted of only one carriage and looked like it might fall apart at any minute, but it would take her back to Stoke-on-Trent, away from the pretty Chester, which had promised so much and hurt so much more.
She stepped onto the train, the relief of knowing she’d finally be back in unpretentious Stoke washing over her. Her feet would be on more solid ground. With solid buildings. Solid people.
That brought her thoughts back to Aya and the budding friendship that had become a train wreck before it had even left the station. Oh well. Gwen had other friends. In fact, she had a best friend whom she could always trust. She got her phone out to text Charlotte. Maybe they could grab some takeaway and watch a movie tonight.
Chapter Sixteen
Talking to Susannah
Aya had nearly been at the door where she’d glimpsed Susannah’s coat. Her hand had been raised to knock on it when she was stopped by that text.
Now, she loitered back where Gwen had left her, guilt because of how things stood between them niggling in her chest. She was convinced Gwen was exaggerating, though. As much as Aya trusted Gwen’s judgement, she had only known the barista for a day. While she had known the self-defence instructor, who said Susannah was really nice, for months.
You don’t even remember the instructor’s name, though, a small voice in her mind argued. You know Gwen better.
Be that as it may, Aya had seen Susannah politely charm everyone in class with her own eyes. Everyone who met her liked her, didn’t they? How could Aya let months of observation be brushed aside by a single comment that Gwen heard, out of context and from a distance? No, she had to talk to Susannah for herself. Get to know her. There could be no harm in that.
Aya stood a little taller. Sad as it was that Gwen had left, she could see the silver lining in that her competition was now gone. She knew they hadn’t been officially competing, but if Susannah were to pick between them, Gwen was a more interesting person. A more attractive one, too.
Stop putting yourself down. You’re not that bad!
Aya rolled her shoulders and fixed her gaze on the door where Susannah must be. The bell had been rung, and the match was starting.
Was she brave enough to talk to Susannah? Would she be able to chat her up? To win the incredibly beautiful blonde over? If so, surely that would be an end to her streak of losses in life.
Aya took the first step towards the door. Then another. The blood rushed in her ears. She spotted another glimpse of mocha brown. That was definitely Susannah’s trademark coat; she could see it through the gap in the door. The door slid open further. Susannah was pushing it wide and stepping back out, alone. The bald man that Gwen had apparently seen must still be inside.
Susannah adjusted her collar as if she had just put the coat on. She leaned her head back, watching the cloudy sky while she blew out a long breath. She looked exhausted. Or maybe exasperated? No matter. Aya had to move forward with the plan she had figured out on the walk over here.
She shook out her anxious limbs and got on the pavement by the HR company. She made to walk past, stride relaxed and gaze ahead. Then she stopped, as if just catching sight of Susannah.
“Hey,” she said in mock surprise. “I know you. Aren’t you in the Muscles & Mitts self-defence class? Um… Susannah, right?”
Susannah looked at her as if she had dropped in from outer space.
Shit. Too weird. Too obviously fake. I messed up.
The thought hit Aya like a blow to the stomach.
Even if she believed all that nonsense, why would she remember me? I’m insignificant, and she’s some corporate goddess.
Then a smile tugged at her crush’s wine-red lips. “Yes, I’m Susannah. And you’re the instructor’s assistant, I believe. The one who asked for my name on the night I lost my phone.”
It wasn’t a question. This woman dealt in statements, not uncertainties.
“Yep, that’s me.” Aya shoved her hands in her pockets, trying to think of what to say next. She hadn’t planned this far, and now she was kicking herself for it.
Susannah buttoned the suit jacket she wore under her open coat. Was she smiling a little? “You know, I did wonder if you really asked for my name because you thought I was someone you knew. Or if it was a way to get to know me.”
The sound of blood rushing in her ears grew stronger. “Um, I—”
Susannah cut her off. “Actually, ignore me, I don’t know why I said that. I’m not usually so blunt. You’ve caught me on a bit of a strange day.” She rubbed her neck as if trying to massage tension out of it. “My area man
ager was here today. Between you and me, he’s a stern brute. He expects me to behave like him, so I have to put on this macho, cold-hearted act. Quite frankly it’s exhausting.”
Aya tried not to ogle the elegant hand massaging the equally elegant neck. “That does sounds like a crap day.” She steeled herself and then went for it. “Fancy getting away from it for a while? I could buy you drink. Or I mean, no, it’s too early for that. Um. I could buy you a coffee or something. You like mochas, right?”
Susannah stopped rubbing her neck. “Yes. I do, actually. How did you know that?”
Dammit. She couldn’t very well say that a barista told her. Not without getting Gwen involved in this.
Play it cool. Make something up! Hurry!
Aya kicked a stone on the pavement to buy time and appear nonchalant. “Oh, I happened to be in the same café as you on the day you were moving over here. I overheard your order.”
Susannah raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows, now definitely smiling. “Really? As observant as you are fit, then. Tell me, do you always remember women’s beverage preferences?”
Now was Aya’s time to shine. The mood had changed. This was a flirting game now, not a regular chat. Back when she was boxing and meeting new women in different cities, she’d memorised pickup lines and read online guides on ways to flirt that masked awkwardness and insecurity. Cheesy, sexy, pickup lines she could do. It was normal conversation where she tripped over her own tongue. Now, she needed to dredge that flirting knowledge up. Rusty as she was, she could do this. She had to believe that.
She gave her best roguish smirk and said, “Only when those women are interesting enough to stop time and hot enough to stop traffic.”
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