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“I just don’t want you to…think I’m a complete basket case. I’m broken enough already, and everyone knows I’m a mess. It’s not easy to pretend everything is all good and back to normal at work when it’s obviously not. I was standing by my desk today, on the phone. Someone by the door started shouting, and I freaked out. How stupid is that? I freaked out because someone was late and there was no taxi at the taxi rank, and Stewart was being all calm and sorting it out while I was having a breakdown on the floor behind my desk.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I leaned back on the soft fabric and cradled his head next to mine.
“I still have nightmares sometimes,” I admitted. “I can’t watch sports on TV. I freak out. It’s absolutely normal to have triggers. Things that just…don’t work for you.”
“That’s not normal,” he said, and I had to smile.
“Says the guy with the freaky eating disorder.”
He laughed, wiped his face again.“One day, I hope you’ll tell me your story. I’m intrigued now.”
“Nothing much to tell, and if I told you, you’d realise how absolutely stupid I am.”
“Then we can be freaky and stupid together,” he said, and I giggled like it was funny, when it wasn’t. Not really.
“Wait here,” I said, getting myself up and returning to my bed briefly so I could grab my blanket. I carried it back and arranged it over his body with all the grace of a drunk housemaid. I was too tired for this. So was he.
“There,” I said, standing back to admire my handiwork. “It’s called a weighted blanket. Mark got it for me because he swears by it. It’s supposed to be good for anxiety and help you sleep better. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but it’s been a game changer for me. Try it out. Makes you think someone is giving you a big, warm hug.”
I wasn’t kidding about the stupidity because now he was looking at me like I really, truly had lost my marbles. Perhaps I had. What did I know?
“Wow!” he said like I’d totally flabbergasted him with my stupid blanket, but he didn’t try to move away.
That done, I bade him good night and, with a small wave, returned to my bed for real this time, grabbed a normal blanket off the floor and went straight back to sleep.
Hugo
I’d had a job since the day I’d left school, so it wasn’t like I was shying away from grafting. I actually enjoyed doing what I did, and even though I was a complete introvert in private, I liked talking to our guests, strangers who had no idea who I was and could only see the uniform on my body and the name badge on my chest.
I could even talk to my colleagues without breaking a sweat. Exchange information and have a bit of banter. Again, impersonaland part of the role. I was good at playing that role. Being Hugo the Concierge. Doing a job. Playing the part and even looking it in my long black uniform jacket.
Talking to guests was easy. They would ask for what they wanted, I would arrange it, tick all their boxes, and when we parted ways, I would rip the piece of paper off my notepad, crumple it into a little ball in my hand…
And put it in the bin like a normal person.
Doing that had been a challenge, but one I was starting to master. The chandelier in the ceiling had not mysteriously come loose from its fittings and fallen on my head. I was still alive and well and went to the canteen for my meals like everyone else, even though the room smelled really bad, sour, old food and disinfectant mixing in a nauseating fake smell of something I couldn’t quite describe. The dried stains under my tray made me want to go grab something to clean with. I didn’t, though. Just took it, like I always did.
I still sat on my own and didn’t blame other people for not seeking out my company. Gossip travelled fast, and I didn’t doubt that everyone in the building knew I was the guy with the mental issues who got beaten up and ended up being sectioned.
Well, that’s what those new trainees were saying, sitting in a corner and talking a little too loudly, glancing over their shoulders as I stabbed my fork into my food.
I was trying, I really was, but the small portion of some kind of chicken pie looked like slop on my plate, accompanied by a single tomato. I would never win any kind of food-plating competitions— that little thought made me smile and gave me the impetus to swallow down two forkfuls. I popped the tomato in my mouth and grimaced as I got up and threw mytray on the rack. Muffled giggles floated around behind my back as I filled my water bottle.
I didn’t care. I honestly didn’t.
But I was lost. I had no idea where I was going. I had another twenty minutes to spare before I needed to go back to the concierge desk, and all the reception managers were obviously in cahoots because Eddie, who was on today, had sent me back upstairs the last time I’d tried to skimp on my lunch break. I knew better than to try that again. Perhaps I should go sit outside and look at listings for flat shares. I could afford to pay for somewhere proper to live, somewhere out in the suburbs perhaps, but the thought of living like that made my stomach hurt.
Living with Ben was…comfortable, simple, but I’d done this before. I’d moved in with someone and then got attached, and look where that had left me. I was a grown-up. I needed my own place and to figure out how to actually live. Alone. If I ever did move, I was definitely stealing that weighted blanket. It was nice. Heavy as anything, but I’d slept much better with it. Perhaps because it smelled of him. Of home.
I had no idea where that last thought had come from.
My daydreaming was interrupted by Willa. Again.
Are you still alive?
Standard question, but for once, it made me smile. I was, actually, more alive than I’d been for a while.
All good.I texted back. Then I added,I’m actually okay and have texted both of our lovely parents to let them know just that.
