Subject:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Sabbatical
Now, was that so hard?
Leave it with me.Seeyou inNovember, or sooner if you want.JustKEEPMEINTHELOOP, for all our sakes.
I also made sure that the farm couldn’t get in trouble for hiring me– they couldn’t– and that there was nothing in my contract or the sabbatical policy legally precluding me from making money from another company– there wasn’t.Then, in the rest of the time until my actual lunch,Ipulled out my journal soIcould process what had just happened.
There were some familiar frustrations that came out on the page; namely, why didIstruggle so hard to do things methodically?Whydid things have to come down to the wire for me to take them seriously?
But then my musings turned toTeddy.Asannoyed asIwaswith myself about howI’dhandled things,Iwas alsoembarrassedthat she’d witnessed my procrastination.Andmore than that,I’dsolidified the impression thatIwas chaotic and careless and, therefore, untrustworthy.She’dsaid as much to me at theRenFaire, andIhadn’t exactly proven her wrong.
ButIhad an opportunity here.Andnot just to do somethingIwas passionate about; an opportunity to do things differently.ToproveTeddywrong, yes, but also to prove to myself that this wasn’t whoIwas.Iwasn’t the chaos or the carelessness.ThatIhad more to give, and thatIcould do things the right way.
I had something to prove; not just toTeddyor toJen, but to myself.Andgetting this festival right was the perfect way to do it.
Chapter11
Teddy
I’d surprised myself by saying yes to the nextD&Dsession.Maybeit was the look onChloe’sface when she’d realised how our characters were connected– the way she seemed both furious and delighted all at once by the drama– or maybe it was the promise of another evening where the stakes were fictional.Eitherway,Iwas into it enough to order my own set of dice online as soon asI’dgotten home.
But mostly,Ithink, it was watchingChloein her element with her friends, telling jokes and riffing on every dumb plot twist.Shewas sharp, sure, and generous with the people she cared about.Itmade me wonder ifI’dgotten her all wrong.MaybeI’dcome on a little too strong, and she was on the back foot.
But then she’d gone and shown that side of herself again– the sideI’dfirst glimpsed inCaliforniamonths ago.Careless.Inconsiderate.Chaotic.Wedidn’t need that.Evenwhen she texted me to assure me we couldn’t get in trouble–I’dknown we couldn’t, but it infuriated me thatshehadn’t known that–Igave her a wide berth the rest of the day, even keeping shtum as we drove toFatima’sthat evening.
The nextMonday, though,Chloeflipped the script.Sheturned up at the farm with a blazer over her jeans andT-shirt, her hair in an elaborate top knot, and a stack of colour-coded folders under one arm.Sheplopped herself down at the table in the studio withJenand me, laying out in painstaking detail her proposed event timeline for what she called theGwenynenCultureFestival.Everyquestion was easily answered with a spreadsheet orGanttchart, each more intimidating than the last.
She was so organised and thorough that it was clear she had something to prove.Sheseemed determined to make me see that she was taking her job with us seriously.Andher plan was good,Ihad to admit.ThatpassionI’dglimpsed a few times now had made its way into every last detail.
And, just asIstarted to think she’d gone too corporate– that she’d forgotten about our values for the sake of maximising income– she busted out a spreadsheet titled “GreenMeansGo.”She’dresearched multiple options for each supplier category she suggested, cross-referenced it with the farm’s sustainability goals, and highlighted in green every vendor who actually met the standardsJenandIhad worked so hard to hold ourselves to, quantifying the trade-off between our beliefs and theirprofitability.
Jen kept looking between us, like she was waiting for me to jump in and challengeChloeon something, butIcouldn’t.Imay have been the immovable object, but she was the unstoppable force.
The only sticking point for me was the content creation.Chloeinsisted that she wanted those of us who actually ran the farm to feature in the social content– that she didn’t want us to be a faceless brand with the same pictures of bottles and blooming flowers over and over again.Ididn’t disagree with her, butIalso didn’t like the idea of her following me around constantly for “day in the life” content, as she called it.Theamount of content she’d been making so far had been annoying and intrusive enough.Ididn’t actually mindChloebeing there most of the time– not thatI’dadmit that– but when the phone came out,Isuddenly felt obliged to perform for the camera, andIhated that.Gwenynenwas supposed to be my safe place.
Jen insisted thatIwould explain things better than she would when it came to the bees and the gardens.Shewasn’t wrong, but whatIdidn’t say was that it didn’t make sense to feature someone who wasn’t a permanent part of the team.Instead,Ijust accepted my fate as an unwitting documentary subject and tried to go about my day-to-day life.
Chloe was a different person when she was working, now, though.Shewas more focused; less desperate to fill the silence and crack a smile.Shelet me work in silence ifIwanted to, saying she could always put music and captions over it, and she only asked me questions that sounded genuine and unscripted.Ialmost–almost– missed the chatter and excitement.
By the end of the week, she’d put together a test video of me inspecting the hive for mites and messaged it to all of us.Iopened it on my phone while sitting on the hilltop overlooking the farm, the evening sunshine feeling decidedly summery,Willowrolling in the grass at my feet.
The video was … honestly, really good.She’dmade me look so confident and knowledgeable.She’dcut in shots of bees landing on my sleeve and even edited out my nervous laugh at the end.IfI’dbeen the type of person to post on social media,Imight have shared it myself.Shewas due to launch her new marketing strategy next week, and, as sceptical asI’dbeen, it looked great.Professional.
The festival date was set for three weeks beforeIwas due to leave for the season, right at the end ofAugust.Itwas a good time for it; summer would still be in full swing on the farm, but it was the penultimate weekend before schools started up again, so families would be keen to make the most of it.Itseemed like ages away to me–I’donly just arrived, and by the time it came around,I’dbe about to leave again– butChloeinsisted it was barely any time at all, which freaked me out a bit.
Chloe immediately started cranking the social engine into overdrive.Shescheduled posts, set up “collaborations” with a local cheesemonger and the pork farm up the road, had thousands of little handouts printed for us to take to other events, and shadowed me almost every day.Itwas relentless, butIcouldn’t deny the almost immediate impact on our following, andJenwas over the moon.Shekept saying things like, “Youtwo make such a good team,” which always made both of us retreat to opposite corners of the farm.
I still compartmentalised as best asIcould, filling the days with chores, takingWillowfor long walks, and throwing myself into the garden work demanded at this time of year.But, the moreItried to lose myself in my job, the moreInoticed little things changing about the wayGwenynenworked.IrealisedJenhadn’t shared the updated finances with me in months.Maggiehad built a new, better fence along the southern border soIwouldn’t need to mend it anymore.EvenChloestarted to feel less like an interloper and more like a fixture– someone who belonged.
The feeling gnawed at me: that this placeI’dcalled home, thatI’dlonged for for so many years, didn’t actually need me to thrive.Iknew that wasn’t true–Jendid her best with the bees in the off season, butIknew the hives inside and out, and my horticulture degree genuinely came in handy every single day– but, asItook in the buzz of activity around me,Icouldn’t help but feel redundant.Therewas an unsettled feeling in my chest thatI’dnever experienced atGwenynenbefore, andIdidn’t like it one bit.
* * *
OneFridaynight after dinner,asJenandImade cups of jasmine tea and settled on the sofa for a film,Iasked her about the finances.Wehad always gone through them together each month, butI’dbeen home for weeks now, and she hadn’t mentioned them once, nor had she shared them over the winter.
“Oh,Ialready handled all that,” she said, literally waving me off. “Youdon’t need to deal with the boring stuff.”
