Pining & Loving

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  “That is an easy thing to say but a harder thing to do, especially if you have clinical depression,” Edward warned.

  “I know,” Gwen said. She fixed his gaze with her own, showing that she was serious and had the power in her to manage it this time.

  After a moment he reluctantly nodded. “Try that out. Maybe ask your friend—Charlotte isn’t it?—to help you and keep you accountable. Then, if this new thing to focus on each day doesn’t help, we will discuss further medication and therapy. Shall we give it a week? Or two?”

  “Say two. If my depression gets worse before then, I promise to let you know.”

  He nodded again. He didn’t look convinced, still tugging on that earlobe and watching her. Gwen didn’t care. She had thought a new daily pick-me-up would work from the start; now was the time to put that into action and prove she was right.

  * * *

  A couple of days later, Gwen was in bed talking to her mum on the phone, hearing all about every relative and acquaintance spread throughout Wales. They were only a few hours travel away from her, and yet her family might as well have been in another universe.

  “Did I tell you that Carys had a baby?”

  “No?” Gwen said, desperately trying to remember who Carys was. A distant cousin? A neighbour? A stray cat?

  “She did! Both mum and baby are happy and healthy.” A pause. “Have you thought anymore about having children one day?”

  “Mum. I’ve told you. I don’t plan on having kids.”

  “I know, I know. You can’t blame me for asking. I only want to be a gran. Oh, and to make sure you aren’t lonely, of course.”

  “Mm,” Gwen said, trying to stay patient.

  There was the clinking sound of cutlery being put away before her mum asked, “So, is sweet, little Carl doing all right?”

  Gwen jumped, knocking a pillow off the bed. “Mum!”

  “Oh, sorry! It’s Charlotte these days. Of course! Silly, silly me. Why do I always forget? I’m so sorry! Please don’t tell her.”

  Gwen picked up the pillow. “Relax. I won’t. And Charlotte is doing fine, busy working and dating the most sought-after bachelors in Stoke.”

  “That’s good. She’ll probably get married before you do, then.”

  Nice one, Mum, you managed to work in my lack of both children and a wife in about two minutes.

  There was a long, low grumble in the background that Gwen recognised as her dad talking.

  “Oh my, yes!” her mum squealed. “Look at the time! I’ll have to ring off, Gwen love. Your dad and I are going over to Carys’ house to see the little nipper.”

  “Great. Give her my regards and kiss the baby’s head from me.”

  There was more grumbling as her dad spoke in the background. “What was that, love?” her mum said distractedly. Gwen wasn’t sure if she spoke to her or to him.

  “Never mind. Have a nice time and hug Dad for me,” Gwen said.

  “Will do. Speak soon, love.”

  “Bye, Mum.”

  As she hung up with a sigh, she heard Charlotte open the front door and shout hello.

  “Hey, sensible person!” she shouted back. “I’m in the bedroom.”

  Charlotte walked in with her hands behind her back. “Hiya, duck. I’m not interrupting an afternoon nap, am I?”

  “No. To be honest, I have slept most of the day, but just now I was on the phone with mum to ask about the homeless shelter she volunteers at. Although we wound up talking about who had a baby and who had hernia surgery.” Gwen blew out a breath. “Anyway, I’m not sure a homeless shelter would be a useful distraction considering my depression. Too sad. Maybe if I volunteer at a library instead?”

  Charlotte took a step forward. “About that. You know how your therapist wanted me to help you with your daily ‘bright spark’ or whatever you want to call it?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I brought something for you.”

  Now Gwen noticed why Charlotte had her hands behind her back; they held something.

  “What is it?”

  As if answering the question, a small, keening squeak rang out.

  Gwen knew that sound from TV and from her childhood dreams. Her mouth fell open. “A guinea pig!?”

  Charlotte beamed and nodded. From behind her back, she produced a small pet carrier. She put it on the bed and opened it to reveal a long-haired, rust-brown creature bounding around inside. Charlotte used a finger to pet its head. “I bought her from a local, trusted breeder. The same one who provided my sister’s guinea pig back in the day, actually.”

  Gwen whirred with joy and affection as she watched the little fluff ball sit still to be petted. The emotions were so needed, so rare these days. “Her?”

  “Yep, it’s a girl,” Charlotte confirmed. “She’s ten weeks old and in perfect health. She was the cuddliest and bounciest of all her siblings, so I thought she’d be a good fit for a pick-me-up.”

  “She’s perfect,” Gwen breathed with worship.

  Charlotte smiled. “You can pet her, you know? She’s your pet. You don’t have to just sit there staring at her like she’s a miracle.”

  Gwen took in the critter with her cylindrical body and giant head. “But she is! She’s so cute and excellent and… and… small!”

  “I’ll have you know she’s big for her age, eleven centimetres!”

  Charlotte picked up the eleven-centimetre miracle and handed her to Gwen. With careful hands, she accepted the furry baby. It sat in one of her palms and stared at her with inquisitive, albeit not very clever-looking, eyes.

  “Hello, little one,” Gwen whispered. “You’re going to live with me from now on. I’m sorry if I’m rubbish at looking after you. I’ve never had a guinea pig. The only pet I ever had was a huge dog when I grew up.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I know what to do, and I got you a guide, too,” Charlotte pointed to the book that was on top of the pet carrier’s lid. “It has all kinds of information on how to clean their cages, maintain their health, and what they eat.”

  “A cage! I need to go buy her a cage right now!”

  Charlotte laughed. “You mean you didn’t hear the racket when I came in? I bought you a cage, shug, and everything that goes in it, including a water bottle. It’s all out in the hallway. It’s going to be huge for her, but she’ll soon grow into it.”

  Gwen watched the creature, who was now wiggling her nose as if it itched. “How big will she get?”

  “The breeder said anywhere between twenty and forty centimetres. Considering she’s already eleven centimetres, I bet she’s going to be big lady.”

  Gwen felt her smile go from ear to ear. “Whatever size she gets, she’ll be brilliant.”

  “Phew.” Charlotte pretended to wipe her brow. “I know you shouldn’t buy pets as a surprise for someone, but I was pretty sure I knew what you’d want. You have talked about guinea pigs a lot.”

  “You were absolutely right. How much do I owe you? For her and for all her stuff.”

  “Nothing. Think of it as my rent for staying here for weeks.”

  Gwen said nothing. The fact that Charlotte’s apartment building was finished and she should’ve moved out days ago was something they didn’t talk about. They both knew Gwen needed her at the moment.

  “Charlotte,” Gwen said, gaze locked on the guinea pig as she prepared to ask something this difficult, “if I… get worse and can’t care for her, will you do it?”

  “Of course,” Charlotte answered softly. “But it won’t come to that, I’m sure.”

  The guinea pig squeaked, and it sounded like a question. Gwen interpreted it as her wanting to get down. As soon as her tiny legs touched the pet carrier, she began running around, sniffing everything.

  “We should get her cage set up so she can eat, drink, and have toys and more room to play,” Charlotte said.

  “Sure,” Gwen agreed, forcing her reluctant body out of bed. After all, her pet needed something. That was more important than h
er heavy limbs and foggy mind.

  They headed for the cage. “What are you going to name her?” Charlotte asked.

  “Hm. Something quirky, like Baroness Brush or Lady Lovely Locks.”

  Charlotte giggled. “If you want something like that, you could name her after that perfume you liked so much in Chester, the Tragedy of Lord Something?”

  “No,” Gwen snapped. “I don’t want any reminders of Susannah or Aya or anything from that horrible trip.”

  “Okay,” Charlotte said cautiously. “It was only horrible at the end, though? The bit in the perfume shop was good, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m not naming her anything to do with Chester!”

  “Okey-dokey. How about something connected to Stoke-on-Trent, then? One of our famous potteries?”

  Gwen glared at her. “I’m not bloody well naming her something like Royal Doulton or Wedgwood.”

  “Fine. I’ll stop suggesting things.”

  “Probably best,” Gwen said with a playful grimace.

  She placed the gingery-brown creature in the large cage. “Look at her! I love that big head, the barrel body, and those teeny-tiny legs. She really does look like a little meatlo… hang on, that’s it. I’m naming her Meatloaf.”

  Charlotte scrunched her nose. “Like the singer?”

  “Sure, but in her case, she would do anything for cucumber, not for love.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes at the reference. “All right then. Meatloaf it is.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sorry

  Aya was in the gym, wrapping up her hands. She had a match in a few minutes. Well, no, not really a match; she’d agreed to be the sparring partner for a rising star, a girl of about nineteen who was tall enough to make Aya feel tiny. At least they were the same weight class, and they had agreed to be wary of punches to Aya’s head, to keep her old injury safe.

  Bill came moseying over and poked Aya in the ribs. “How are you getting on, kid?”

  “Pretty rubbish. Relationships suck.”

  “I meant more along the lines of if you were ready for the sparring match, but hey, we have a few minutes. Tell your old coach what’s up,” he said, leaning against the scratched wall.

  “You know how I told you about dumping Susannah?”

  “Yep. About time, too.”

  “I know, don’t rub it in. Anyway, remember Gwen?”

  He scratched his broad, wrinkled chin. “The Welsh chick who warned you off Susannah?”

  “Yeah. I want to apologise to her. For not believing her warnings. And for not staying in touch.”

  “You know what I always say, kid.”

  “Flowers and spill your guts,” Aya dutifully repeated.

  “That’s the one. Whatever happened between you and a lady, buy her the best flowers you can find and tell her everything.” He pointed a crooked finger at her. “Keep nothin’ back from a woman you care about. I learned that the hard way. Total openness, kid, even if it’s hard.”

  Aya finished wrapping her hands. Bill kept his tall frame plastered to the wall. He knew her well enough to give her lots of time to get what she needed to say out.

  “Do you… think that’ll be enough?” she finally mumbled.

  “Sure. If you’re honest enough and apologise enough, why not?”

  Aya flexed her hands. They were strong and sure. Sadly, the rest of her wasn’t. “Gwen did read my thoughts and actions very well. She probably knew I’d have to give Susannah a try. And why I did it.”

  Bill inclined his head as some sort of noncommittal agreement.

  Aya blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll give it a go.” She bumped her wrapped fists together. “But first, let’s go whip this nineteen-year-old into shape.”

  * * *

  That night Aya stood outside the door to Gwen’s flat. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Her palms were beginning to dampen around the huge bouquet of white roses she’d bought.

  Get a hold of yourself, Lawson.

  She rang the doorbell. After a while, Gwen opened the door with a surprised expression. She was wearing scruffy jeans and an oversized, washed-out sweater.

  They watched each other in weighted silence.

  “Hi,” Aya managed to blurt out. “Sorry for showing up here like this. I’m not stalking you, the guy at the café where you work said you lived here.”

  “Why are you always assuring me you’re not stalking me? It’s starting to sound suspicious. Wait, someone gave a stranger my home address? I bet that was Dave,” Gwen said with disgust.

  “I’m so sorry,” Aya blurted out.

  “About Dave being a thoughtless wanker?”

  “No, about—”

  A smile tugged at Gwen’s pallid lips. “I know, I was messing with you. Let me help you out, you were apologising for ignoring what I said about Susannah and dating her anyway?”

  “Yes,” Aya said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

  “No need. I get it. Want to come in?”

  Aya nodded and stepped inside.

  They watched each other silently again.

  “Do you want to give me those, or are they just a prop?” Gwen said, pointing to the roses.

  Aya thrust them forward, nearly hitting Gwen in the chest.

  She expected to hear Gwen’s beautifully raspy laugh at that, but all she got was a tired smile. Everything about Gwen looked tired, now that she thought about it. The limp hair, the ashy skin, and the listless eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  Gwen waved the hand not holding roses dismissively. “I’m fine. Just my depression getting worse. I get these low periods sometimes.”

  “Oh.” Aya chewed her thumbnail.

  “I seem to be doing better than you anyway,” Gwen said kindly. “You look like you’ve come to your own execution.”

  “Yeah, I bet I do.” Aya dropped her hand from her mouth. “I, um, won back some of my confidence when I dated Susannah, but clearly that’s not helping me tonight.”

  Gwen surveyed her with what was probably pity. “Are you sure that had to do with Susannah? It wasn’t that you dared to step up and achieve something which you’d failed at before that did it?”

  “Maybe,” Aya mumbled.

  Gwen caught her eye. “That’s a good thing. It means you might get a confidence boost if this interaction goes well, too.”

  “I guess. Thanks for being nice.”

  “Thank you for the flowers. I love cream roses.” Gwen sniffed them. “They smell nice, too.”

  Cream, not white. I should’ve guessed, Aya thought with amused fondness. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Do you want to take off your jacket and stay for a while? Or do you need to run away?”

  She really does get me.

  “No. I’d like to run off, but I’m not done. I owe you an explanation. And…” She hesitated. “I want to see you. I mean, talk to you. Or both, I guess.”

  “I’d like that. I’m going to go put these in water.” She held up the roses. “Charlotte is staying with me, but she’s out on a date with some heroic fireman, so it’ll just be you and me.”

  Aya hung up her waxed canvas jacket, self-conscious over how scruffy it looked compared to the coats on the hooks.

  In the kitchen she watched her hostess cut the stems of the roses. Her movements were slow, sure, and calm, but never lazy. She had her own sort of confidence, Aya realised, the kind that doesn’t need to boast or steal attention.

  She pushed herself to ask the question that had been bothering her. “Do you really think my boosted confidence had nothing to do with Susannah?”

  Gwen, concentrating on putting the roses in a vase, hummed. “I think there were a lot of your own actions that increased your confidence. Helping me that day, for one. You’re clearly not comfortable with strangers, especially ones that are complicated, like I was. Still, you picked me up and you helped me through the day, even though it unsettled you.” She stood back and surveyed the roses. “After that, you d
ared make your own decision about Susannah. Then, from what I’ve seen on Facebook, you not only managed to talk to Susannah, but to charm her.”

  “Turns out that it wasn’t so much me charming her as that I didn’t talk much and I had low self-esteem, which let her treat me anyway she wanted,” Aya said bitterly.

  Gwen’s focus snapped from the roses to Aya. “What? I’m sorry to hear that.” There was no ‘I told you so’ or smugness in Gwen’s voice or demeanour; only empathy.

  Aya stared down at her boots. “It’s what I deserved for not listening to you.”

  “No! No one should be treated like that, especially not for wanting to believe the best about their crush and needing that person’s validation.” Gwen stepped closer. “I should’ve been clearer earlier when I said that you didn’t need to apologise because I got it. What I meant was that, on that day, I assumed you were going to think I was exaggerating. And I understood why you wanted to believe I was, so you could pursue Susannah and prove to yourself that you could win.”

  Aya gaped. “How the hell do you understand me so much better than I do?”

  “I guess therapy teaches you to analyse thoughts and behaviours. Besides, you told me what Susannah symbolised for you, remember? Drawing the conclusions after that wasn’t rocket science.”

  “Aha. I thought it was because we were somehow compatible or something,” Aya mumbled.

  “Maybe that, too. Or maybe I just overanalyse everything. Look, all I know is that if you’re here and talking about Susannah like this, then you did the right thing for yourself and broke up with her. Also, the fact that you haven’t posted about her on Facebook in ages proves that conclusion.”

  “Hey, how about that? Now you’re the one stalking me.”

  Gwen smiled a little, but it didn’t sit right with Aya. That was definitely a point where Gwen would usually laugh. Aya’s heart twinged at the change in her.