Once Audrey had trudged out the door, Nathan gave my hand a soft squeeze, then dropped it.
‘Better?’
Um…
‘You said it helped, having a hand to hold.’
Err…
‘That time when you needed to get to the pharmacy.’ His eyes grew wide with concern. ‘You said holding a hand helped. When we were crossing the road… I saw you starting to panic and I thought it would help. I mean, you were, weren’t you? Beginning to have a panic attack? Not that I hope you were, except, well, if you weren’t, and I just grabbed you for no reason in the middle of a café, then, honestly, I’m really sorry. And next time, please just pull your hand away, and tell me to get lost, or, I don’t know, slap me or something.’ His face creased up into utter horror and dismay.
Phew, Amy, get some air moving back through those vocal cords at some point today, can’t you?
‘Yes.’ I squeezed my own hands together now, hoping it might help. Stared at the remaining chunk of granola, a much safer and altogether more appropriate focal point. ‘It helped. Thank you.’
If byhelped, I meantwas the loveliest thing that has happened to me in forever.Or, perhaps,felt like I had found my true source of gravity, and all my haphazard, helpless, swirling through time and space could rest for a moment, that moment, tucked inside your hand.
‘Granola,’ Nathan said, thankfully intercepting the runaway thought-train.
‘What?’ Was this an impromptu word-association game? ‘Should I say something like “Bird seed” or “Veganuary”?’
‘You can say what you like, as long as you finish your post-run breakfast.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Do you ever switch off?’
He looked at me, as if baffled.
‘Kick back and relax, break a few rules, do something naughty but nice? Indulge in a guilty pleasure?’
‘I don’t see what breaking rules has to do with being relaxed.’
‘That depends on what kind of rules you follow.’ I deliberately pushed away my plate, signalling that, no, I was not going to finish my post-run, refuelling, muscle-regenerating breakfast.
‘I believe in the rules I follow. Adhering to them means I can relax, happy I’ve made healthy, positive choices.’
‘I disagree. Following some rigid system of rules all the time, with complete inflexibility, might ensure physical benefits, but it isn’t good for you mentally or emotionally.’
And I speak from experience, ladies and gentlemen.
Nathan frowned, sitting back as the café owner brought him a plate of two eggs on thick-cut rye bread. ‘The usual, mate. Sorry about the wait.’
‘Cheers, Chris.’
I don’t know where it came from, quite possibly some residual ooomf from the hand-holding, but I caught Chris before he went back to the counter, ‘Excuse me?’
‘Yes?’ He glanced at my plate. ‘Is the granola okay? It was fresh this morning.’
Sheesh, I was never going to order granola again.
‘Does Nathan order the same food every time he comes in?’
Chris grinned. ‘He doesn’t need to order, we just plate it up, soon as he’s finished his pint of water. Breakfast: two eggs on rye. Lunch: chicken and avo salad. If he pops in for a client meeting, green tea and a gluten-free, dairy-free, processed-sugar-free date and banana bite.’
‘Thank you.’ I turned back to Nathan as Chris wandered off again, my eyebrows raised in vindication.
‘I don’t see your point. What’s wrong with eating well?’ He shuffled in his seat. He saw my point.
‘Eating well, or eating to an exact, rigid, robotic, Mr Boring spreadsheet of no fun?’
