Page 24 of Wassailing We Will Go
I walk back to the office and sit back in my chair. One week, I think, since Charlie’s accident. In that time, I gained a new employee, formed an extremely ill-advised crush on said employee, performed a glam-rock karaoke number with that same employee, was kinda sorta told by the employee that they like me back, and then, apparently, low-key pissed off that employee with my shitty attitude toward his friends.
I can see where I went wrong, but I’m not sure how to fix it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I CONTACT HEATHER AGAIN, ASKING if there’s space at the Lakeside Spa for tonight. She says that sorry, it’s really busy for a Sunday, and I am unfairly betrayed by this, even though that’s a very reasonable response, and she sounded truly apologetic. I have only been home for two hours but have a massive case of cabin fever: I hate all my food, I hate every show that exists, I don’t want to read my book, and everything is boring. I feel restless, and Steven is annoyed by my pacing. Even he’s giving me a look from the couch that says something to the tune of get it together, lady. The spa was the only thing I could think of that might get my mind off things.
I’m being weird and obsessive, and I know this. I’m being weird about losing the award, and I’m being weird about Harrison potentially being slightly annoyed with me. Neither of these things should command the attention I’m giving them, but my brain has locked in. I realize that I just need someone to talk to. I have friends for different things: Heather and I have a long text history where we complain about the trials of the industry. We’ve even gone out for wine once, and it was nice. But I don’t know how to bring this one forward. Our friendship is…specific and semi-professional.
I think the main problem with moving cities and then taking an all-consuming job is that maintaining friendships has been hard these past few months, and creating new ones has not been easy, either. My city friends were all friends of circumstance, and I’ve since realized some were friends of Sean’s that I sort of inherited for a time. I had work friends that I’d go for lunch with. Some friends from university came to visit over the summer, and we had a lot of fun doing a wine tour, but I maybe haven’t been the best at keeping in touch with them since then, and every day, it gets a little harder to open back up the lines of conversation.
I open Instagram, and Stephanie, of alpaca farm fame and also from my book club, is at the top of the feed, posting on her personal account about a crochet project she’s working on. It’s a Nordic-patterned sweater, and it honestly looks incredible. Her partner, Lorne, is in the background making faces, and beside him, there’s a monkey emoji covering little Hazel’s head to keep her face off the public internet. It’s all very charming. Stephanie is nice, I think. Why don’t I ever hang out with Stephanie? I decide to text her with this winning opener:
KATE: I saw your sweater on instagram. You’re amazing! I mean, you know I’m a big fan of your scarves and that your socks are next level, but that one’s a show stopper
STEPHANIE: Thanks! I’m going to raffle this one off to raise money for the Rotary Club during the Wassail weekends. Come over and buy tickets!
KATE: Obviously, I am going to buy a zillion tickets
STEPHANIE: How’s everything going for Wassail? My mom told me about Charlie (sorry, you know the county) and said you have a fill-in cidermaker
KATE: Yeah it’s been a whole thing tbh but I think it’s working out well. Glad we found Charlie help
Here, the little bubble comes and goes with … for quite a while before landing on:
STEPHANIE: Sorry, but I have to confirm to my mom, now that I have you in a conversation. Is he actually an underwear model from Australia?
If I had a drink, I would have spit it out. I wonder who started that rumour? Helen from the library, maybe, when she was helping Harrison print off his CV. She’s a saucy old gal.
KATE: I mean, half of that is true
I’m tempted not to confirm which half though
Keep the gossip going for the ladies who lunch meetings
STEPHANIE: Fine but for my sake: if I were to say, introduce him to Hazel, would she or would she not be excited that he sounds like Bluey
KATE: Hazel would likely love him for lots of reasons
Hazel is two, which I thought, from my limited knowledge of kids, was the worst age a kid could be. Kids in general are a new addition for me in a potential friendship, but Hazel won me over very quickly. At our last book club meeting, hosted by Stephanie at her very cute farmhouse, Hazel toddled in to say good night to her mom. After giving her a hug good night, she came over to me and solemnly handed me a raisin that she had found on the floor and told me, Good job. Stephanie then explained that Hazel is in potty-training mode and gets raisins as a reward for nailing it. Apparently, something about me said this is a lady who does not pee her pants to Hazel, and honestly, sometimes it’s just nice to hear about the things you’re doing right. Even if it’s just using the toilet consistently.
STEPHANIE: Sounds like I’m coming to visit the cidery next weekend with Hazel. We need to get to the bottom of this
KATE: I mean we’d love to have you obviously
But also I gave Harrison the scarf i bought last time I was at your place and now he’s very interested in visiting the alpaca farm and it sounds like he might actually try and steal an alpaca so you’ll need to keep an eye on him
STEPHANIE: …why did you give him your scarf
KATE: …because he was cold
And has the facial expressions of a labrador retriever
You’ll see. Hazel will give him so many raisins. Not because he looks particularly great at using the potty tbh, he just looks like a guy who deserves some raisins. Hard to explain.
STEPHANIE: Sounds like you want to give him some raisins
KATE: I…don’t know how to answer that, on so many levels
