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Home – Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
Abenefit of tossing and turning all night was rising early enough Wednesday morning to sip my morning coffee out on the bank, the scent of heather filling my nose, as the sun rose over the water. All the moment required was the hand-carved bench Kier had long ago promised he’d build for Elsie when he had a free day. He’d never had a free day.
Despite last night’s rain, the day started sunny and dry so I’d taken Dudley on his first ever beach walk. I broke a sweat as I hauled his stocky little body down the steep, craggy path that zigzagged from the bank to the private cove. He’d returned exhausted and with sandy whiskers, slowing us both as we strolled back to the manor via the pebbled path leading past the old distillery.
The sheer size of the property grew more and more intimidating the longer I let myself take it all in. I owned all of this. I wasresponsiblefor all of this. The grass was short, and the bushes acting as a barrier between the manor and the distillery were neatly cut back. As the weeks of summer ticked away though, they would need maintaining.
Outdoors had always been Kier’s domain, while the manor had been Elsie’s. Never to be seen without a duster in hand, Elsie was a“dinner on the table at five, leave your dirty clothes by the door” kind of woman. Kier had been the fixer, the provider. I supposed it was the same for many older couples, coming from a time when traditional gender roles were so heavily structured. Had that resulted in Kier becoming a man who didn’t really know how to take care of himself? Could the same be said for me?
As a child, when I wasn’t reciting monologues in the mirror, I often found myself right alongside my grandmother. I could bake a mean lemon drizzle and thread a needle with my eyes closed, which was great—I loved all of those things. But outside that, I was completely out of my element. If something broke, I called a guy to fix it. Now, I wished I’d spent a little more of my childhood years out here in the dirt, learning from Kier how to be capable. I didn’t want toneedsomeone to fix my problems. Needing someone left room for manipulation, and that could never happen again.
After a few more minutes of walking, the stone distillery came into view. Almost as big as the manor with two stories, the whitewashed stone was almost blinding in the bright sunshine.Kinleith Distillerywas depicted in large black letters facing the small gravel car park, the paint starting to flake and peel in places. A small workman’s cottage jutted out to the left facing the sea, and I remembered the way it used to loom dark and unused on the property when I was younger. Around the back was a separate dunnage, its low ceiling and thick stone walls perfect for housing the whisky during its three-plus year maturation process.
See Kier, I did listen,I thought, shielding my eyes against the sun so I could get a good look at it. I tried the handle, wanting to look around the place for memories’sake, but it was locked. I tried again, pressing my ear to the door. I could have sworn I heard a dog bark. Dudley tilted his head as though listening too. Silence.
“The keys are probably at home,” I said to him.“we’ll come back another time.”
Back at the manor, I showered, changed into my favourite baby-blue blazer with matching shorts, and dried out my hair. Then I sat at the breakfast bar, staring at my phone. I’d put off Angela’s email long enough.
I’d met her on a handful of occasions through Sydney and she’d always come across kind, supportive, and professional. I didn’t fear I’d be walking with my eyes closed into a situation I couldn’t get myself out of with her. Yet, I knew I owed myself some time before making such a big decision. Figuring honesty was the best option, I chewed on my lip and wrote her back.
Angela,
Thank you so much for the offer of representation. Please believe I will give the contract serious consideration, but I have to be honest here, I need some time. My grandfather recently passed away and I’ve returned home for a while. I’m not sure for how long and I think I need this space to gain a bit of clarity. If you need to pass, I completely understand.
April Sinclair
There.
A weight lifted from my shoulders. Now I could start doing whatever the hell I wanted—once I figured out what that was.Perhaps a trip into the village will help.I’d barely stood from the table when her response pinged through.
April,
I get it! And we won’t be passing, we want you aboard. Take as much time as you need. But how about this, I see any projects I think would be a good fit, I pass them your way?
Angela
Oh, she was good.
I didn’t know a single actor who would pass on the perfect project. And for someone who’d been desperate to dig into a juicy character for years now, the offer of one would be too good to resist.
My hands flew over the screen.
Deal.
A
Placing a packet of shortbread into my basket, I paused atthe shelf before reaching for another.Screw it. I reminded myself I was eating what I wanted now and threw in a large bag of cheese puffs and a six-pack of Irn-Bru along with a few cleaning supplies. Making one last pass around the small convenience store that sat just off Kinleith’s main high street, I circled back to the till, pulling my bright pink heart-shaped sunglasses down over my eyes. It was total diva behaviour and usually I’d roll my eyes at my own arrogance. Call it first-day nerves, or maybe Malcolm’s words from last night really had gotten to me, but I wasn’t ready to be recognised.
While I waited in line, I drew out my phone, opening up my favourite social media app to check the likes on a recent post. The picture was a close-up shot of my face, highlighting the minimalist makeup from a brand I’d been partnering with for the last year. Brand deals were my main source of income these days. I didn’t love it, but it kept the money coming in and helped me stay relevant—whatever that meant. I had a lot of rules about the brands I promoted; I wouldn’t promote any products I didn’t love and use regularly. I refused to promote anything harmful—no fad-diet milkshakes or teas that made you shit your guts out. No fashion brands that mistreated their staff. No products tested on animals.
I kept the comments section open for fan engagement and, like always, my thumb hovered over the view icon. My turn at the checkout saved me from the den of vipers that would have likely sent me into a weeklong downward spiral, all becauseJohngreer901from Vancouver said:the only thing worse than your tiny tits are your movies.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and gave the pretty girl in her twenties behind the counter a small smile as I set my basket down.
