Pining & Loving

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  After what felt like an eternity, the door opened. Gwen was wearing that fluffy robe again. Her hair didn’t fall limp and listless like it had lately. Instead, it stood on end on one side. That and the quick blinking and yawning that Gwen was doing made her look like an overgrown toddler after a long nap. In short, she was adorable.

  “Hey, sleepy,” Aya said. “Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to drop off the next boost.” She used her sleeve to wipe the worst of the rain off the cover and then handed over the book.

  Gwen took it as if it were a fragile, priceless object.

  “Aya. I… It’s...” Gwen shook her head as if in disbelief. “You really don’t have to do that. I mean, I know I said this before, but I have to repeat that while I’m so very grateful, you don’t have to do this every day.”

  “And if I want to?”

  Gwen leaned her head against the doorframe. “I certainly won’t stop you. I’ve, well, I’ve been thinking about you every waking moment today.” She put a hand over her eyes. “Look at me babbling at you while making you stand out there in the stairwell. You must be soaked from the downpour. Come on in.”

  Aya entered and hung up her jacket. Rain pearled on its waxed canvas and then dripped down on Gwen’s floor. “Ah! Sorry, duck. I’m making a puddle.”

  “That’s okay. Charlotte will happily clean up later; she says cleaning is her therapy. She’s the dream housemate.”

  “I’d say so. Can you send her over to our house later, so I don’t have to do so much of the cleaning?”

  “Our house?”

  “Yes, I live with my parents. Pretty sure I told you that?” Her heart began to pound. She could hear Susannah’s remarks and mocking tone when she’d told her that she lived with her parents.

  Gwen put her hand over her eyes. Was the light bothering her? Aya had read that antidepressants could make you light sensitive.

  “Yes, I think you did,” Gwen mumbled. “Everything is a confusing haze right now. I can barely remember my name.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Aya saw that water was pouring off her boots and took them off before she went farther into the flat. “I plan to rent somewhere as soon as I get a job. If I can ever afford the deposit.”

  “I know. The housing market is murder for anyone under forty-five, even here in Stoke,” Gwen muttered.

  Aya followed her hostess into the kitchen. Meatloaf’s cage was in there now. With slow movements, Gwen got a cucumber out of the fridge and began cutting off tiny pieces.

  “Sorry for doing this while you’re here, but I have to make the most of my awake time. Charlotte is being a hero and cleaning the cage and feeding Meatloaf when I’m too ill to do it, but I still want to treat the gluttonous piglet with extra cucumber so she’ll… I don’t know… like me, I suppose.”

  “No worries,” Aya said, sitting down. “I just wanted to drop off the book and chat to you. I can do that while you’re dicing. In fact, chop off a piece for me.”

  “Sure. Here you go.”

  Aya munched while Gwen filled Meatloaf’s bowl and put it in the cage.

  “She will, you know. Like you, I mean.” Aya pointed to the chomping guinea pig.

  “I hope so. I don’t have much energy or affection to spend on her right now. She deserves a better owner than me.”

  “That’s the depression talking. You’ll get over the worst of it, and then you can shower her with affection. Besides, she’s not a child; she’s a pet. As long as she’s fed, safe, and has a clean home, she’ll be fine.’

  “I’m pretty sure she also needs company,” Gwen mumbled while squatting on her haunches to watch Meatloaf eat.

  “And even when you’re this ill, you are still giving her that.” Gwen looked over at her with confusion, so Aya clarified. “Look at you. Most people, if they were in such a bad state that they could barely take care of themselves, wouldn’t spend precious time and energy worrying about a guinea pig that’s clearly getting its basic needs met.”

  Gwen scrunched her face up. “You don’t think so?”

  “Nope, most people are more selfish than you.” She chewed her last bite of cucumber. “Not to mention being less aware of the creatures around them than you are.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. No one has ever seen or understood me the way you do. And I know you’re like that with everyone. I’ve witnessed it with these bad boys,” Aya said, pointing at her eyes.

  Gwen didn’t laugh, but Aya could have sworn that the twitch of a smile returned for just a millisecond.

  “What’s it like?” Aya said before she could stop herself. “Being depressed?”

  Gwen’s shoulders curled in, and she sat down fully. “Where to start? Well. Hm. It differs for everyone. Some describe it as a dark room in your mind that you can’t get out of. For me, it’s a deep, black ocean.”

  “An ocean? Is it pretty?”

  Of course not. It’s her illness, stupid!

  “No, not like a real ocean is. It’s just scary. In my case, this huge, void-like ocean has layers.” She held up a hand, palm down. “First there’s usually sadness and loss of energy, sometimes with annoyance at everyone and everything. Almost like when you’re grieving.” She lowered the hand a step. “Then there’s negative thoughts, usually self-loathing ones, like ‘you’re just a burden to everyone’ or ‘you don’t deserve food or happiness.’ Also, the classic ‘you’ll never feel okay again.’ That’s what I think of when people talk about the demons in your mind.”

  Aya tugged her shirt collar. She wasn’t equipped for this conversation. Why had she asked? “Okay. Um. So, what’s the bottom layer, the worst one?”

  “Emptiness.” Gwen shivered, staring into space. “You lose your emotions and any form of caring about things. Once, I stabbed a fruit knife into my hand, just to see if I’d feel something more than the easily ignorable physical pain. You know, regret over having done it, fear that I might’ve severed a nerve, disgust at the blood pooling around my hand and dripping off the table.” She looked down at the back of her hand. “I didn’t. I just sat and watched it bleed for ages until my dad walked in and took me to hospital. It was like it didn’t matter, somehow. Nothing did. That was when I was diagnosed with depression.”

  Aya saw a scar on Gwen’s left hand. A white, raised line on the bit between her thumb and forefinger.

  Gwen put her other hand on her chest and was taking long, shaky breaths.

  “I shouldn’t have asked,” Aya whispered. “Now you feel worse.”

  “I’m glad that you did,” Gwen said, her voice breaking. “If you can understand what’s happening in my head, my actions might make sense. And I’ll feel like I have to apologise less.”

  Aya cleared her throat to get rid of the lump that had formed there. “You never have to apologise.” Her brain worked frantically to think of something to lighten the lead-heavy mood. “Not unless you put artichoke on pizza.”

  Gwen rolled her eyes. “In that case, I owe you an apology. I love artichoke.”

  “What? Artichoke is an insult to vegetables and shouldn’t go on anything, especially not on the marvel that is pizza! And don’t get me started on pineapple!”

  “Fine, fine.” Gwen held up her hands in surrender. “We’ll leave the pizza debate.” She stood and fetched the boxing guide Aya had brought her, then leafed through it. “This looks interesting. Not too technical or tedious.”

  “No, it’s good. I decided to buy you a copy because it was so helpful to me when I started boxing. There are pictures showing the ready position and all the main punches. You already have the stance sorted.”

  Gwen closed the book. “That’s kind of you to say, but I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten all about it.”

  “Good, I get to show you again and feel important for being a teacher.”

  Finally, Gwen smiled, though Aya could tell it was fake. She let it slip, not wanting to ruin the lighter mood they were cultivating.

  Gwen snapped her finge
rs as if she’d just remembered something important. “I never asked how your job interview went!”

  “Pretty good, I think. It’s mainly blokes who work there, and they’re the kind of rugged, quiet guys that I’m used to from the gym, so I seemed to fit in. Hopefully I gave them the answers they wanted.”

  “Did they tell you when they’d let you know?”

  Aya clicked her tongue. “That’s the annoying thing. They want me to talk to their boss, who’s on holiday right now, so basically, I’ll have another interview before they decide. They did say that I was one of the three people who passed this first interview, so there’s that at least.”

  “I think you’ll get it,” Gwen said with an earnest expression. “I don’t know why, but I have a feeling this is the job for you.”

  “I hope so.” Aya’s stomach clenched. Time for a subject change. “The real question today is if that boxing handbook was a proper boost?”

  Gwen hugged the book to her chest. “Absolutely.”

  “You sure? I know this is more in my line of interest than yours, so maybe it’s not a real boost for you. I just think boxing could be a fun way of getting your serotonin levels up and that would become a boost.” It sounded feeble even to Aya’s own ears.

  “I get what you were thinking, and I’m sure boxing will be a boost for me one day. Right now, it’s a boost in different way.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  Gwen held the book closer against her fluffy robe and the bare, pale chest underneath it. “Because you thought about me enough to search this book out for me. And then you came through that hideous rain to bring it to me.”

  They shared a long look, and by the end of it, that faint tug at the corners of Gwen’s mouth was back.

  Outside, the rain picked up, knocking against the window as if it wanted to come in. Aya didn’t care; nothing could distract her from her suddenly sunny mood.

  * * *

  The next day, the afternoon sun had overcome Stoke’s usual rain. Aya had just been let into Gwen’s flat and managed to trip over a pair of dainty shoes.

  Gwen caught her by the arm. “Whoops.”

  Aya steadied herself. “Shit. There’s my huge, clomping boots getting in the way as always.”

  “They’re not huge or clomping. I always thought they were cool with that worn-leather look. Anyway, that wasn’t their fault. Or yours. Charlotte came in late last night after a date and must’ve just kicked off her slingbacks. I don’t know why she didn’t put them away this morning. She must’ve been in a hurry.”

  Gwen picked up the high-heeled shoes and placed them on the shoe rack. Aya quickly averted her gaze when it became clear that bending forward made Gwen’s robe open at the chest.

  “Um, how are you today?” Aya croaked.

  “About the same as yesterday. Maybe a little bit better, it’s hard to gauge. How are you?”

  “Less drenched than yesterday. Thank goodness the weather picked up.”

  “Yes! The last thing anyone needs is the weather being as depressing as my brain.”

  Aya chuckled. “It amazes me that you still make jokes even though you can’t see the funny in anything.”

  “It’s a coping mechanism. And a fundamental part of my personality, I guess. Come into the kitchen. Do you want something to drink?”

  She walked off, and Aya followed her. “Water would be great. It’s not just the weather that’s different from yesterday, you know.”

  Gwen ran the tap, feeling the water before filling a glass. “No? What else?”

  “Today’s boost isn’t something I bought for you.”

  Gwen handed over the glass. “No? Are you telling me that you stole something for me?”

  Aya swallowed a mouthful of water and grimaced at Gwen. “No, I’m telling you that the boosts won’t all be objects. I’m not that much of a capitalist.”

  “Ah, I see. Well that sounds less criminal.”

  Aya rolled her eyes, put the glass on the table, and got her phone out. “Some of the stuff I have planned are outings. But you can’t leave the flat right now, I get that, so I made you something.”

  “Is it cake? If so, it’s got to be bloody small to be wedged in the pockets of those tight jeans.”

  “It’s not cake.” Aya pointed to her phone. “It’s something in here.”

  “Okay?”

  Embarrassment burned in Aya’s face and neck. Would this be awkward? “Do you, um, remember when we were kids and we all burned CDs for our friends with our favourite songs?”

  Gwen scrunched her face up for a brief moment. “Aha, you made me a playlist?”

  “Exactly,” Aya said, incredibly relieved she didn’t have to explain further. “I assumed you had a Spotify account, so I created a playlist and made it public. I named it ‘Boosts for Gwen.’ It’s all songs that rev me up when I’m feeling sad or tired.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet of you! Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Aya mumbled.

  Gwen came to stand next to her and peered at the screen. “Hey, I know some of these,” she said. She used her forefinger to scroll down. “I’ve never heard most of them, though.”

  “Go get your mobile and download it. I want to make sure it works.”

  Gwen poked a finger into her ribs. “Fine, bossy boots!”

  She walked off to get her phone, leaving Aya to drink her water and wait for her return. That was when Aya realised that there wasn’t a thing in the world she wouldn’t do for this woman. And just how happy that made her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Fourth and Fifth Boost

  Gwen had pushed herself that day, managing both a shower and getting dressed. She knew from the last four days that somewhere between 1 and 3 p.m., Aya would text that she was downstairs and ask if she could come up with her boost gift and her steadfast wish to help. Today Gwen had spent her daily ration of energy on getting ready for that. She lay on the sofa now, trying to stay awake, trying to keep the hateful thoughts at bay.

  They’d rolled through her mind like thunder all day, reminding her of how little use there was in her cleaning herself up. How Aya would soon hate her. How the planet was dying around them. How she’d probably get a terrible disease and die herself, and how utterly she’d deserve that.

  She watched Meatloaf run in and out of the small tunnel Charlotte had bought for her cage.

  Well, I found it online, ordered it, and paid for it, Charlotte just did the legwork by going to the shop to pick it up.

  “I’m not completely useless, am I, Meatloaf?”

  Her pet stopped and stared at her as if she’d said something offensive.

  “Calm down, I was only making conversation,” Gwen said with a shake of the head.

  A staccato rhythm of far too many knocks rang out. “That’ll be Aya, Meatloaf. Go open the door, would you?” Gwen sat up. “No, of course not. You stay there and be cute, piggy. We all have our jobs in life.”

  After the door had been opened and Aya was coming in, Gwen got a serious head rush and had to lean against the wall.

  Aya held out her hands to steady her. “Gwen! Whoa. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I might’ve overdone things today. I’m not used to being this active anymore.”

  “Have you eaten anything?”

  Shame made her look away. For a moment she couldn’t remember, but deep down she knew the answer. “Only tea and some coconut milk to swallow my pills with this morning.”

  “Well, I bet that has something to do with it,” Aya said in a, for her, unusually incriminating tone. “Is there anything I can make for you? Something I can go get that you think you might eat?”

  Gwen’s head swam. “I-I don’t know. Something sugary and filling, maybe? I think I have some chocolate digestives in the kitchen.”

  Aya placed an arm around her waist. “Here, let me steady you, and we’ll go find those biscuits.”

  She was so warm and smooth in the compression shirt she wore. It
was as tight as a second skin and soft against Gwen’s cheek. Aya was so solid, but still gentle in her movements. It was perfect to just lean on her and be towed along. She smelled good, too. Gwen halted. That wasn’t Aya’s normal scent.

  “Why do you smell like… dried flowers or something?”

  “Ah. Yeah. I might’ve spent way too long in that shop on the way over here.”

  “What shop?” Gwen asked as Aya led her to a kitchen chair and made her sit down.

  Aya gave her shy, lopsided smile, and the sight of that dimple made Gwen even dizzier for some reason. “A tea shop.”

  “Tea shop?”

  “Yep. You know, they sell teas.”

  “I know that, Aya.” She shook her head. “I was trying to prompt you for more info on why you were in one.”

  “Oh, right. Your daily boost. You love tea, so I thought that cool, unusual teas might be good. I don’t know.” Aya scratched the back of her neck in a self-conscious way. “Maybe I don’t know you well enough to tell what might be a boost for you? Especially not when it has to be objects and not stuff we can go out and do. I’m much better at activities.”

  “No! Flavoured teas are great.” Gwen tried to fill her words with all the enthusiasm that her wonky brain no longer produced. “Thank you so much. I’m normally a regular tea kind of woman, but I’m willing to experiment.”

  “I’ll let the single ladies know,” Aya said with waggling eyebrows.

  “Stop it, you perv. You know what sort of experimenting I meant.”

  That reminded her of her lost sex drive. Yet another way she knew when things were bad. She enjoyed sex in all its forms, but when the depression crept in, sex crept out. She chased the thought away. “Anyway, can I see the tea? I hope you didn’t spend too much money on it. Your wallet must be pretty lean these days.”

  “It wasn’t that pricy. Hang on, I left it in my jacket pocket.”

  She went out to the coatrack in the hallway. Gwen watched her go. It was bizarre how the kitchen shrunk and darkened when Aya left it. She had such a presence. She didn’t usually say a lot, but just by being in a room, she could change it.