22

Erisa had arrived early in the morning, passing by River without saying a word and returning moments later with a jacket, River's handbag and a pair of River's most comfortable shoes. Still not saying a word, despite River's hesitant questions, Erisa untied her apron, fed her arms into the jacket and pointed to her shoes.

"What's happening?" Without thinking, River swapped her worn, flat working shoes for the one's Erisa had brought her. "Talking is good, you know? Communicating. Using words. Interaction with our voices. People have been doing it for centuries."

"No talking. You'll only weasel your way out of it." Satisfied with River looking ready, Erisa handed River her handbag and pointed to the door. "You're having a day off. Go into town. Do some shopping. Wander around aimlessly. I don't care, but you're getting out of this shop for a day."

River dipped her head, glancing at her handbag. Erisa had even chosen her favourite day-to-day bag. The comforting one that was neither too plain or too flashy. Simple. Large enough to carry things, small enough to not look as though she carried her entire life inside. She reached for her mobile phone, but Erisa snatched it away.

"I need that!" She whipped out her hand to grab it, but Erisa was ready for her, holding it behind her back. "What if ... what if a supplier calls? What if someone falls ill, or something? What if I need to check the time?"

"You'll keep checking it to see if you've got messages from her. No." Erisa held up an admonishing finger, widening her eyes as River tried to reach behind her back. "No! You time! You've been miserable for days. Go. Have fun. Alone."

Before River could even attempt to dissuade Erisa, she found herself guided out of the door and then the door closed and locked behind her. She had her keys in her handbag, of course, but the locking of the door made it clear that Erisa would brook no arguments.

Sometimes, River wondered who actually owned Leaves and whether Erisa employed her. Stood outside the shop, she took one, last, forlorn look as Erisa stood there, behind the glass, arms crossed and daring River to try to reenter. For one of the most wonderful people River had ever met, Erisa could be a little scary, sometimes.

With a look both ways up the little side street, she turned and trudged towards the centre of town, dragging her feet, her handbag dangling from her fingers. She had no idea what she could do. The last time she had spent time off, alone, she had wandered around in a listless haze, thinking only of tea and whether she dared to visit other cafés to try theirs.

She hadn't. She had walked past a few, sometimes twice, but had never entered. It made her feel as though she were spying upon competitors and she knew she would end up running an internal monologue, critiquing their brewing techniques and the quality of their teas. She didn't want to do that, it was only a natural reaction. She judged people on their tea making skills, or their lack of them.

Upon reaching the high street, she felt enclosed by the number of busy, bustling shops and, before she knew it, had passed the entire length of the town without looking in, or entering a single shop. Still early in the day, everywhere seemed filled to the brim with people, all hurrying and rushing to reach their destinations. Elbowing and shoving to catch that one bargain before anyone else.

She knew if she arrived back at the shop too soon, Erisa would fix her with that glare of disappointment tinged with pity and River couldn't stomach that. Thinking about her stomach, she realised she felt a little hungry, though, she decided, it was far too early for that. On a whim, she entered the chain book and stationary store and began to peruse the hundreds of titles, many, most, all, of which she would never get around to reading if she bought them.

Pausing at the Romance section, she picked out books, grimacing at the bland, stereotypical covers and flipped them to read the blurb. They were all heterosexual books. Manly men with womanly women. Heaving chests. Tight trousers. Forbidden lusts. The same story, only with different decorations. None could give her any useful advice for her own circumstances.

None could give her insight on how a woman should navigate the ins-and-outs of falling in love with another woman who didn't love her. A lesbian falling for a straight woman. Now that could provide a decent story to read. Flirtations in the night. The will-they-won't-they tension. The inevitable, pain filled twist until the affirming finale, where both would declare undying love.

Fantasy. And not the kind with dragons. Real life didn't work like that. Straight people were straight. They could no more change their orientation than an elephant could dance on a pin. With a sigh, she returned the last book to the shelf, noting the propensity of cover artists with protagonists bearing frills and loose open shirts. Pectorals glistening. She didn't see the appeal.

Next, she wandered to the magazine section, passing by the millions of "Women's" magazines, filled with gossip, diet and cosmetic tips, 'heartbreaking' true life stories and horoscopes. She never understood horoscopes. Generic, platitudinous soundbites that could become interpreted a million ways. She didn't even know what star sign she came under.

Then, her eyes fell upon something. Something that caught her eye. Something familiar. Leaning down to a section of the magazines where all the periodicals that few people even knew existed sat, she pushed aside 'Organic Farming Times' and 'Model Railway Connoisseur', to see what had caused a flicker of recognition.

"Oh. My. God! Why? How? Why?" Her head whipped up, heat rising in her cheeks as she realised she had said all that far too loud for a relatively quiet shop. She caught the eyes of a nearby staff member. "Sorry. It's just it's ... well ... this magazine has ... sorry."

"It's not a library, miss." The staff member chuckled as she finished placing a new set of magazines upon the nearby shelf. "You won't get thrown out for talking."

"Oh. Good. Great." She still felt hear of embarrassment as she shifted her eyes back to the magazine. "If you did, I'd be getting thrown out of everywhere. Talking. Kind of my thing. I can never stop. Talk, talk, talk. You'd think my tongue would get tired, but no. I think I'll just get this and go. Thank you. Sorry."

With a swift hand, she grabbed the magazine and scurried past the staff member, trying not to catch her eyes. The magazine crackled as she held it tight to her chest and made her way to the sales counter. The staff member at the till, took River's money, passed her the change and dropped the magazine into a brown paper bag, which River almost snatched from their hands.

Now, sat in a multinational burger restaurant, her fingers drummed against that bag. She wasn't a snob. She could eat almost reheated burgers in limp, tasteless buns with watery ketchup dripping from the edges and far too salty fries as much as the next person. The tea, however, she grimaced at from one look at the tepid, grey liquid.

But that was not why she had come here. The restaurant afforded her a semi-private booth within which she could sit away from any possible prying eyes. A place where she could take her time, nibble at the fries and burger, grit her teeth and sip the 'tea', and to read the magazine.

On a day intended by Erisa for River to get away from everything, she had found herself reminded of why Erisa wanted her to have this day to herself. To get away from the shop, tea, Celeste. But, there she was, on the cover of 'Franchise Insider International'. Those beautiful eyes staring out from the cover with the logos of several, well-known chains behind her. More than several. Quite a lot of logos, in fact.

Chewing on a bunch of fries held between her fingers, she flipped the pages of the magazine until she found the article and the first thing she noticed were the photographs. Set in a luxurious apartment, so tastefully appointed and decorated, it almost made River gasp and, beneath the pictures, it identified the apartment as Celeste's own home. The apartment looked huge. Huge and expensive and River knew, now, exactly why Celeste didn't seem to ever worry about money. She had it. The money. She had all the money, or as near as damn it.

A big bite of the hamburger sent ketchup dribbling down her chin as she began to read the article. She caught the dribble before it fell onto the page, sucking the ketchup from her finger as she found herself fascinated by the article.

It seemed pretty comprehensive, as far as River knew. Going into great detail about Celeste's accomplishments, the sheer number of franchises that she, personally, had guided to incredible success. And then the article talked of her recent award win and the fact that Celeste had resigned from her job.

"I felt down, to be honest." Celeste answered the interviewer. It said that she laughed and River could imagine that laugh. "I thought I was finished. And then I met someone and they gave me a fresh new insight. A new, exciting lust for life."

"Oh? That sounds exciting, certainly." The interviewer wrote the article as though they were in conversation, only adding little anecdotal details. "Are there, perhaps, wedding bells in the future?"

"God, no! It's not that kind of thing." The interviewer noted how both sad and happy Celeste appeared. "They are the most amazing person I've ever met. But it's not like that. Nothing romantic. We're just good friends. That's all."

With those final two words, River closed the magazine, her head flopping and hitting the table. Of course that's all it was. How could it be anything but?