Page 34 of There's Pumpkin About You
“Is this Nigel asking, or you? Because if it’s Nigel then he can ask me himself in about thirty seconds.”
I try and walk away, but she steps up onto the sidewalk before I can. She’s unusually limber for a sixty-year-old with a walking cane.
“I’m asking for him. You know what he’s like. Nigel is too nice, too lenient. If you’re going to own a business then you should run it properly.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
I finally manage to maneuver myself around her and step into Flora and Flowers, where Simone and Nigel stand behind the counter, wrapped in each other’s arms as they give one another affectionate pecks on the lips.
I think most people would expect me to gag but I find it quite sweet. I’m not a romantic by any means, never really had enough experience to get the hang of the idea, but I do acknowledge the appeal of being with one person for so long. The idea of being able to have the most stressful day imaginable and coming home to that one person who can make the noise just stop.
Have I ever imagined myself finding that person? No. Because whilst I’m not opposed to the idea of love and relationships, I’m still realistic enough to know that the chances of finding what Nigel and Simone have is about as likely as someone who has never been in the sea getting eaten by a shark.
Bash found his person, he was just stupid enough to let her go. Sam thinks everyone is an idiot who doesn’t know about he and Jamie, and me? I’m too much of an asshole to convince anyone to love me. Especially not the only woman who seems to be in my life right now.
As I watch Simone and Nigel smile at one another like the sun shines out of each of their asses, I feel a weight on my chest that I’ve never had before. To offer myself a reprieve, I clear my throat and step further into the store, thankful that it doesn’t sound as if Sandra has followed me in.
Nigel looks over and smiles. “Ah, Gus, what a pleasure.”
Simone makes her way over to me, a small limp visible when she walks. She holds her hands out to me, gently takes my shoulders and reaches up to kiss each of my cheeks. She’s the only person I allow to do that.
“How are you, Gus?”
“I’m fine,” I reply. It’s my go-to response.
Her smile turns serious. “Sandra giving you trouble at the town hall meeting like that was out of order.”
“It is what it is.”
“Well, if you ever need help you come straight to us, you hear me?”
I don’t smile back, but I do at least allow my face to soften. “Yes, ma’am.”
The light returns to her eyes. “You always were such a beautiful boy.”
“Simmy, my love, let the poor boy put the pumpkin down. You see he has a bad arm.” Nigel chuckles.
She gasps as if she’s just noticed and takes a step back so I can place the pumpkin on the counter. I nod to Nigel in gratitude because that genuinely was fucking up my shoulder.
“I apologize for delivering it whilst Simone is here,” I tell him. “I know it was supposed to be a surprise.”
He chuckles again. “The only person that is owed an apology is my wife. I shouldn’t have assumed that after so long, I could pull a fast one on her like that.”
“Forty years later and he still has so much to learn.”
The weight on my chest returns, especially when they look at each other with that glint in their eyes. The one that shows me I’ve vanished from the room right now.
Growing up, Nigel was friends with my father despite the age gap. They were close enough that I used to see him several days a week for lunch or dinner.
I never minded. Nigel was always kind, and when I received my official diagnosis when I was eleven, he was the only one who didn’t seem to act as if the world was ending. He simply clapped my dad on the shoulder, smiled and said, “Doesn’t change him, just helps you to understand him. Most parents don’t have that privilege.” He was always on my mom’s side, even after she died.
He and Simone never treated me any different to Sam and Bash, but they still made sure to try their hardest to understand. Hell, they used to buy books on Autism just so they could try and grasp the complexity of the disorder. It feels as if they’re the only people in Eaglewood who can at least understand that I have a neurological disorder… not a mental one. Two extremely different things.
“Want me to take it to the kitchen at the house?” I ask as I awkwardly try and look anywhere else.
“Thank you, Gus,” Simone smiles.
After nodding to their goodbyes, I drive the pumpkin over to their house which is only around the corner, and I let myself in through the back door that they always leave open. They’re too trusting.
