Scots terms
Bairn – child
Wee’un/Wain – Another word for a child. In Glasgow wee’un (short for wee one) has been further shortened to wain (pronounced like the first name Wayne). This is what adults referred to children as when I was growing up in Glasgow (my family still use it); Bairns is a rest of Scotland thing.
Ma – Mum
Dobber – another word for idiot.
Script
Did I do the right thing? I did…I did. Does doing the right thing always make you feel so shite? Maybe if I talk this out, start at the beginning, I’ll start to feel better. That’s how it’s supposed to work.
I’d forgotten something important. It’s like as soon as I record these diary entries, I just forget the event’s happened. But it’s no really gone, it’s more like it’s buried beneath all of the other shite that clutters my head. Sometimes I only find it when it’s too late, and sometimes all it takes is one throwaway comment in a conversation to remind me it’s there, lingering like frost in winter. And then I must decide; deal with it or try and rebury it.
This couple comes into the shop. Two women, early thirties, and one of them has a bun in the oven. And I mean so much bun that the timer’s about to go. She even has the waddle of a pregnant woman. I was deep in the shop, not touching anything that looked interesting, or that could throw me back a few centuries. The bell went, they came in and made their way over to the desk where Fionn and Reid were, for a change, not biting each other’s heads off. I kept one ear open, fixed on the exchange, whilst I arranged crispy records, some dating all the way back to the 20s by singers I’d never heard of. Chronos was pretending to help by curling up on top of the gramophone that’d appeared one day a few weeks back. I’m too scared to inspect it.
There was polite chitchat coming from the front counter. Unusually Reid’s was the first voice I heard. He never normally speaks to customers unless forced. He was inquiring of the pregnant woman when she was due as his sister was also expecting. Sister? He has a sister? That’s when the lid I’d put on my guilt weeks ago began to loosen, the contents trickling out one drip at a time. The customer answered that she was due next month. Another voice, which I assumed to be the pregnant woman’s partner, asked after Reid’s situation, if he hadn’t found a nice fox to settle down with, no cubs of his own on the way.
There was the abashed silence that usually follows a question like this, and I stopped arranging the records in their cardboard box. Chronos began to stir, eyes slowly opening as he noticed the absence of movement. Reid answered that he didn’t. The pregnant woman scolded her partner, saying that he may not want bairns. Reid was quick to point out, too quick, that it wasn’t anything like that. He just had other things to keep him occupied.
I know those words weren’t meant to injure, and I shouldn’t be taking them any other way, but they made me feel awful. I, the shop, what we did, were those other things, and they were all keeping him away from his life, a distraction, a temporary stop before he moved on. The lid was fully off the jar, and all those feelings I’d had months back flooded in. I was keeping him here, keeping him trapped. I began to feel like I was taking him for granted, assuming he’d always be here to help me with things in the shop. What about his family, the ones I’d never asked about? His friends? His life before he’d blown into the shop asking for help. Even though I’d known I was being self-absorbed, selfish, I’d not done anything about it. I’d ignored it, buried it, but it’d bounced back like an elastic band, except now it felt ten times worse.
Suddenly I heard my name from someone crouching beside me, feel their hand resting on my shoulder. I jumped out of my skin and glared into Fionn’s bemused gaze. He apologised, only half sincere, and explained that they’d been calling for me a few times, but I’d never answered. Abashedly, and feeling a bit off, I mumbled an apology and stood up. Fionn said that the couple were here for a blessing and wanted to see the Madam. I had no idea what a blessing was and was too distracted to ask.
Things were already a bit unusual as soon as we reached the top of the stairs. The Madam was already waiting for us at the top rather than the front room, and this time she didn’t want me to make tea. She motioned for the couple to sit on the sofa, but instead of me sitting on the floor, I was to take the space beside the Madam. I felt, for a moment of panic, that I’d been promoted, and I didn’t like it. The coffee table was empty save for one battered old tan leather pouch. The cord around the top was loosened so that it was open like a flower in bloom. The bag was just big enough to fit one hand in. I’d no idea what was inside as I couldn’t see from where I was sitting. It was weird sitting like a grown up, but my legs weren’t complaining.
It wasn’t long before Madam Norna began to answer the questions I hadn’t said aloud. She directed these instructions to the couple sitting opposite, but I knew they were for me as well. She confirmed that the couple were here for a blessing for their unborn bairn. At the mention of the wee‘un its Ma placed her hands on her stomach in a way only a pregnant woman can. Protective, with a hint of pride. Motioning to the leather pouch sitting open on the table, the Madam explained that inside were many different fates, everything that could be, shall be, and will never be. The blessings bestowed on the bairn would be chosen by its parents, who were the conduits of fate in this instance. They were to choose three wooden tiles from the pouch on the table; one each, and then the last one they’d pick together.
Something about this felt comical, yet no one was laughing. The last time I picked something this way was my flatmates names in last year’s secret Santa. There was a different atmosphere to the room, like walking into a church where people are already praying. There’s a sense of the divine, of something spiritual that you can’t quite explain, even if you’re the world’s biggest atheist. A kind of untouchable peace.
The first to put their hand in was the Ma-to-be. Looking every way but into the pouch, she moved her hand around, a gentle scraping could be heard from inside as the tiles were shimmied around. Finally, she pulled one out and placed it on the table, in full view of the Madam. The tile itself was made of a light-ish wood, like oak or chestnut, finely glossed. It was blank, and I assumed that it was face down. The next was her partner who gingerly reached her hand in, and quicker this time took out a tile, placing the one she’d chosen beside the other, again face down. Then, holding hands, they both reached their free hands in the pouch, which I was surprised was big enough to fit both in, and after some awkward rummaging they pulled the final tile out, and planted it face down on the table.
Everyone turned to the Madam expectantly, waiting for her instructions. She nodded encouragingly, and the pregnant woman flipped the tile she’d picked first so it was face up. The symbol on it was familiar, like I’d seen something similar before, and the longer I stared the quicker I began to realise that it was similar to the Madam’s language, the one that only the Madams can read. I didn’t know what it said, still, and there’d been no mention of me learning.
Madam Norna began to explain that this symbol, or letter, meant that the unborn bairn would have a happy disposition, seeing the sunshine in everything rather than the grey clouds. A blessing that would serve them well in their life. At her flowery words I began to feel like I was visiting a sooth-sayer, or tarot card reader, speaking vague promises and predictions. It was quite unlike the Madam who was usually painfully specific. Next was the partner’s turn, and she flipped her tile over with eagerness. The Madam observed, and explained that the bairn would be stubborn, immoveable on matters where it thinks it knows best, unwilling to compromise, but it would also have the conviction and courage to see through its decisions. No sure that was a blessing, and by their reactions there were mixed feelings too.
The last tile was flipped over by both to reveal the final symbol, and the final blessing. The bairn would be generous to those it loved, patient, understanding, and always willing to help. It would never become their enemy or do something that would genuinely hurt them. There were smiles all around at this reassurance, but I began to wonder, my suspicions awakening. The Madam was the only one who could read the symbols on the tiles. We only had her word what she told them was what the tiles showed. Did she have to tell them the truth? Did the tiles only show good things?
Regardless of my own thoughts the parents of the unborn bairn appeared happy with its fortune, or blessing. They thanked the Madam sincerely, and the payment given in exchange was a wee babies shoe, intended for the bairn. I still don’t understand how that was a payment, it wasn’t even a pair of shoes. They left under a cloud of joy, buoyed by their thoughts of a perfectly stubborn bairn.
After they were gone, I bent down to pick up the pouch, sliding the three tiles over to my side of the table. After an encouraging nod from ma boss, I tipped out the contents and wee wooden tiles, about half the size of a domino, scattered across the table. I glanced across and counted. I estimated about twenty, no more than thirty. I frowned. If these were meant to be blessings, reflect the fate of an unborn bairn, then why were there so few? That means that everyone born only has a finite number of options on how their life will turn out. I phrased my doubts as a question, and the Madam nodded in understanding.
She instructed me to really look at the tiles. Apart from their number, what else did I see, or rather not see. I scrutinised the wee tiles, after a few minutes of confusion I began to pick them up, turn them over in my hand, feel their perfect surface, run my fingers across their smoothed edges. They were all blank. Everyone I picked up, even the three that’d been pulled out by the couple, were all blank. With even more confusion I turned back to the Madam waiting for my explanation.
She said that only when the parents touched the tiles would the symbol of the bairn’s fate appear. I could relax, there’s not a finite number of fates, there’s infinite, and somehow these tiles could see into the future, or read an unborn bairn’s personality. Madam Norna also confirmed that the symbols that appeared on the surface was the Madam’s language, so only the Madams could give the blessing to the expecting parents. I asked if they only told the parents about their bairn’s personality. She said they can show anything if the parents ask, but they didn’t, because deep down no parent wanted to know for certain if their bairn would be shite or good. The joy was in the surprise, the potential. In the end, getting a blessing from the Madam was a tradition, and no one wanted to hear bad things. So, exactly like a tarot reading then.
I nodded, collecting up the tiles and sliding them back into the leather pouch they came from. Whilst I was doing this task my boss unusually broached a subject with me. Usually, it’s always me who starts a conversation. It wasn’t a question, but a statement said with such confidence my head snapped to look at her like a bungee cord. She told me, and I mean told me, that I thought I was holding Reid back. It took me a moment, a moment to check I wasn’t sitting on the customer’s sofa, and to fight away the panic that she could read anyone’s mind, not just a customers, before I nodded gingerly. She reached over and patted me on the hand, as if she understood exactly how I was feeling. In her words, I had to decide if I cared enough about him to let him go.
I queried if it was really that simple. If all I needed to do was decide and that would be it. She confirmed that it was. I was the one wearing the ring, and if I decided I wanted to take it off then it’d come off. I wanted to call bullshit on that. I’d tried to take it off months ago and it hadn’t budged. I looked down to the ring on my small finger, the fox head staring back, eyes shining in the daylight. I hardly noticed it anymore, took for granted that it’d always be there. I hadn’t tried to remove it in months either.
I knew it was time. If I’m being honest, it was probably past time. I’d been selfish for long enough, only thought about myself, my own convenience, my own feelings and circumstances. I’d never asked Reid if he liked being my familiar, if he liked being in the shop all day every day verbally abused by Fionn and, let’s face it, on occasion me. I’d never asked about his family, his friends, or his life outside. I’d never asked him if he was my pal because I was afraid the answer was no.
Steeling myself, squaring my shoulders, and ignoring the wee voice in my head that squealed at me to stop and keep Reid against his will, I marched downstairs and announced to him that we needed to speak in private. Obligingly both Chronos and Fionn made their way up the stairs, leaving the two of us alone amongst the antiques. He had a stony face, as usual, staring at me with curious eyes, his characteristic frown pulling his thick eyebrows together.
There were a hundred things I could’ve said, some bad, some good. Typically, I went for the worst one. I told him flatly that I didn’t need him to be my familiar anymore. That was a bare-faced lie. I liked having him around, knowing he was there. Why did I put it that way? I further went on to explain that if those dobbers in suits hadn’t reappeared by now, then he was probably safe. He didn’t have to stay in the shop and near me.
I found it difficult to look at him when these words were spilling out my mouth like vomit after too many jaeger bombs. I thought I saw relief; I thought I noticed anger. Were his shoulders tenser than they had been? In the silences that followed my words he never said anything, and this only prompted me to speak more. Nonsensical excuses that came from nowhere and were nothing like the truth. In the end, in the silence he left, I grasped a hold of the fox ring on my finger and wishing with a ferocity that I’d reserved for Madam Anora during her invasion of the shop, I willed that ring off my finger.
And it came off. I couldn’t believe it, but it’s not like I could show that. Stiffly, like I was holding a filling that’d just fallen out of my mouth, I awkwardly placed it on the glass counter. A sign that we were no longer apprentice and familiar, no longer connected. Free. We both stared at the ring, neither one of us wanting to see the other’s reaction. Eventually, after torturous silence when no one moved or said anything, and he realised I wasn’t picking the ring back up, he turned his heated gaze on me.
Human eyes were replaced with the yellow-green of a fox, narrowed in my direction, anger burning inside. I inhaled sharply, wanting to take a few steps back but afraid if I moved things would get worse. Then it was smothered. His eyes returned to normal, and he took a frighteningly controlled breath out. His fist lashed out and grabbed the ring from the counter. The last thing he spat at me before he stormed away was, ‘thanks for nothing’.
My body went slack and I propped myself up on the counter, for once despising the silence that lingered in the shop. My ring was gone, my familiar was gone, and I felt like shite. That was a few days ago and it’s not been far from my thoughts. I don’t know why I didn’t just tell him the truth, that I thought I was holding him back, keeping him from better, happier things. His life, his family, his friends. I don’t know why that felt so hard to say. And it’s too late now. Every time I arrive in the shop and he’s not there I have to remind myself of the reason. Every time the bell above the door goes, I assume it’s him. I’m like a bloody dog waiting for its owner. But this’ll pass, right? I did the right thing. Didn’t I?
Script – Scots
Did I do the right ‘hing? I did…I did. Does doing the right thing always make you feel so shite? Maybe if I talk this oot, start frae the beginning, I’ll start tae feel better. That’s how it’s supposed tae work.
I’d forgotten somethin’ important. It’s like as soon as I record these diary entries I just forget the event’s happened. But it’s no really gone, it’s more like it’s buried beneath all ae the other shite that clutters ma heid. Sometimes I only find it when it’s too late, and sometimes all it takes is one throwaway comment in a conversation tae remind me it’s there, lingerin’ like frost in winter. And then I have tae decide; deal wi’ it or try and rebury it.
This couple comes intae the shop. Two women, early thirties, and one ae them has a bun in the oven. And I mean so much bun that the timer’s aboot tae go. She even has the waddle ae a pregnant woman. I was deep in the shop, no touchin’ anythin’ that looked interestin’, or that could throw me back a few centuries. The bell went, they came in and made their way over tae the desk where Fionn and Reid were fae a change no bitin’ each other’s heids aff. I kept one ear open, fixed on the exchange, whilst I arranged crispy records, some datin’ all the way back tae the 20s by singers I’d never heard ae. Chronos was pretendin’ tae help by curlin’ up on top ae the gramophone that’d appeared one day a few weeks back. I’m too scared tae inspect it.
There was polite chitchat comin’ frae the front counter. Unusually Reid’s was the first voice I heard. He never usually speaks tae customers unless forced. He was inquiring ae the pregnant woman when she was due as his sister was also expectin’. Sister? He has a sister? That’s when the lid I’d put on my guilt weeks ago began tae loosen, the contents trickling oot one drip at a time. The customer answered that she was due next month. Another voice, which I assumed tae be the pregnant woman’s partner, asked after Reid’s situation, if he hadnae found a nice fox tae settle doon wi’, no cubs ae his own on the way.
There was the abashed silence that usually follows a question like this, and I stopped arranging the records in their cardboard box. Chronos began tae stir, eyes slowly openin as he noticed the absence ae movement. Reid answered that he didnae. The pregnant woman scolded her partner, sayin’ that he may no want bairns. Reid was quick tae point oot, too quick, that it wasnae anythin’ like that. He just had other ‘hings tae keep him occupied.
I know those words werenae meant tae injure, and I shouldnae be takin’ them any other way, but they made me feel awful. I, the shop, whit we did, were those other ‘hings, and they were all keepin’ him away frae his life, a distraction, a temporary stop before he moved on. The lid was fully aff the jar, and all ae those feelins I’d had months back flooded in. I was keepin’ him here, keepin’ him trapped. I began tae feel like I was takin’ him fae granted, assumin’ he’d always be here tae help me wi’ hings in the shop. Whit aboot his family, the ones I’d never asked aboot? His friends? His life before he’d blown intae the shop askin’ fae help? Even though I’d known I was bein’ self-absorbed, selfish, I’d no done anythin’ aboot it. I’d ignored it, buried it, but it’d bounced back like an elastic band, except noo it felt ten times worse.
Suddenly I heard ma name frae someone crouchin’ beside me, feel their hand restin’ on ma shoulder. I jumped oot ae ma skin and glared intae Fionn’s bemused gaze. He apologised, only half sincere, and explained that they’d been callin’ fae me a few times but I’d never answered. Abashedly, and feelin’ a bit aff, I mumbled an apology and stood up. Fionn said that the couple were here fae a blessing and wanted tae see the Madam. I had no idea whit a blessin’ was, but was too distracted tae ask.
Things were already a bit unusual as soon as we reached the top ae the stairs. The Madam was already waitin’ fae us at the top rather than the front room, and this time she didnae want me tae make tea. She motioned fae the couple tae sit on the sofa, but instead ae me sittin’ on the floor, I was tae take the space beside the Madam. I felt, fae a moment ae panic, that I’d been promoted, and I didnae like it. The coffee table was empty save fae one battered old tan leather pouch. The cord roond the top was loosened so that it was open like a flower in bloom. The bag was just big enough tae fit one hand in. I’d no idea whit was inside as I couldnae see frae where I was sittin. It was weird sittin’ like a grown up, but ma legs werenae complainin’.
It wasnae long before Madam Norna began tae answer the questions I hadnae said aloud. She directed these instructions tae the couple sittin’ opposite, but I knew they were fae me as well. She confirmed that the couple were here fae a blessin’ for their unborn bairn. At the mention ae the wee‘un its Ma placed her hands on her stomach in a way only a pregnant woman can. Protective, wi’ a hint ae pride. Motioning tae the leather pouch sittin’ open on the table, the Madam explained that inside were many different fates, everything that could be, shall be, and will never be. The blessings bestowed on the bairn would be chosen by its parents, who were the conduits ae fate in this instance. They were tae choose three wooden tiles frae the pouch on the table, one each, and then the last one they’d pick together.
Somethin’ aboot this felt comical, yet no one was laughin’. The last time I picked somethin’ this way was ma flatmates names in last year’s secret santa. There was a different atmosphere tae the room, like walkin’ intae a church where people are already prayin’. There’s a sense ae the divine, ae somethin’ spiritual that ye cannae quite explain, even if you’re the world’s biggest atheist. A kind ae untouchable peace.
The first tae put their hand in was the Ma tae be. Lookin’ every way but intae the pouch, she moved her hand roond, a gentle scraping could be heard frae inside as the tiles were shimmied roond. Finally, she pulled one oot and placed it on the table, in full view ae the Madam. The tile itself was made ae a light-ish wood, like oak or chestnut, finely glossed. It was blank, and I assumed that it was face doon. The next was her partner who gingerly reached her hand in, and quicker this time took oot a tile, placing the one she’d chosen beside the other, again face doon. Then, holding hands, they both reached their free hands in the pouch, which I was surprised was big enough tae fit both in, and after some awkward rummaging they pulled the final tile oot, and planted it face doon on the table.
Everyone turned tae the Madam expectantly, waitin’ fae her instructions. She nodded encouragingly, and the pregnant woman flipped the tile she’d picked first so it was face up. The symbol on it was familiar, like I’d seen somethin’ similar before, and the longer I stared the quicker I began tae realise that it was similar tae the Madam’s language, the one that only the Madams can read. I didnae know whit it said, still, and there’d been no mention ae me learnin’.
Madam Norna began tae explain that this symbol, or letter, meant that the unborn bairn would have a happy disposition, seein’ the sunshine in everythin’ rather than the grey clouds. A blessing that would serve them well in their life. At her flowery words I began tae feel like I was visitin’ a sooth-sayer, or tarot card reader, speakin’ vague promises and predictions. It was quite unlike the Madam who was usually painfully specific. Next was the partner’s turn, and she flipped her tile over wi’ eagerness. The Madam observed, and explained that the bairn would be stubborn, immoveable on matters where it ‘hinks it knows best, unwilling to compromise, but it would also have the conviction and courage to see through its decisions. No sure that was a blessing, and by their reactions there were mixed feelings too.
The last tile was flipped over by both tae reveal the final symbol, and the final blessing. The bairn would be generous to those it loved, patient, understanding, and always willing tae help. It would never become their enemy or do something that would genuinely hurt them. There were smiles all around at this reassurance, but I began tae wonder, my suspicions awakening. The Madam was the only one who could read the symbols on the tiles. We only had her word what she told them was whit the tiles showed. Did she have tae tell them the truth? Did the tiles only show good ‘hings?
Regardless ae ma own thoughts the parents ae the unborn bairn appeared happy wi its fortune, or blessin’. They thanked the Madam sincerely, and the payment geein’ in exchange was a wee babies shoe, intended fae the bairn. I still dinnae understand how that was a payment, it wasnae even a pair ae shoes. They left under a cloud ae joy, buoyed by their thoughts ae a perfect, stubborn, bairn.
After they were gone I bent doon tae pick up the pouch, slidin’ the three tiles over tae ma side ae the table. After an encouraging nod frae ma boss, I tipped oot the contents and wee wooden tiles, aboot half the size ae a domino, scattered across the table. I glanced across and counteed. I estimated aboot twenty, no more than thirty. I frowned. If these were meant tae be blessings, reflect the fate ae an unborn bairn, then why were there so few? That means that everyone born only has a finite number ae options on how their life will turn oot. I phrased ma doubts as a question, and the Madam nodded in understandin.
She instructed me tae really look at the tiles. Apart frae their number, whit else did I see, or rather no see. I scrutinised the wee tiles, after a few minutes ae confusion I began tae pick them up, turn them over in ma hand, feel their perfect surface, run ma fingers across their smoothed edgees. They were all blank. Everyone I picked up, even the three that’d been pulled oot by the couple, were all blank. Wi even more confusion I turned back tae the Madam waitin’ fae ma explanation.
She said that only when the parents touched the tiles would the symbol ae the bairn’s fate appear. I could relax, there’s no a finite number ae fates, there’s infinite, and somehow these tiles could see intae the future, or read an unborn bairn’s personality. Madam Norna also confirmed that the symbols that appeared on the surface was the Madam’s language, so only the Madams could gee the blessing tae the expectin parents. I asked if they only told the parents aboot their bairn’s personality. She said they can show anythin’ if the parents ask, but they didnae, because deep doon no parent wanted tae know for certain if their bairn would be shite or good. The joy was in the surprise, the potential. In the end, getting’ a blessin’ frae the Madam was a tradition, and no one wanted tae hear bad ‘hings. So, exactly like a tarot readin’ then.
I nodded, collectin’ up the tiles and slidin’ them back intae the leather pouch they came frae. Whilst I was doin’ this task ma boss unusually broached a subject wi’ me. Usually it’s always me who starts a conversation. It wasnae a question, but a statement said wi’ such confidence ma heid snapped tae look at her like a bungee cord. She told me, and I mean told me, that I thought I was holdin’ Reid back. It took me a moment, a moment tae check I wasnae sittin’ on the customer’s sofa, and tae fight away the panic that she could read anyone’s mind, no just a customers, before I nodded gingerly. She reached over and patted me on the hand, as if she understood exactly how I was feelin’. In her words, I had tae decide if I cared enough aboot him tae let him go.
I queried if it was really that simple. If all I needed tae do was decide and that would be it. She confirmed that it was. I was the one wearin’ the ring, and if I decided I wanted tae take it aff, then it’d come aff. I wanted tae call bullshit on that. I’d tried tae take it aff months ago and it hadnae budged. I looked doon tae the ring on ma small finger, the fox heid starin’ back, eyes shinin’ in the daylight. I hardly noticed it anymore, took fae granted that it’d always be there. I hadnae tried tae remove it in months either.
I knew it was time. If I’m bein’ honest it was probably past time. I’d been selfish fae long enough, only thought aboot maself, ma own convenience, ma own feelings and circumstances. I’d never asked Reid if he liked bein ma familiar, if he liked bein in the shop all day every day verbally abused by Fionn and, let’s face it, on occasion me. I’d never asked aboot his family, his friends, or his life ootside. I’d never asked him if he was ma pal because I was afraid the answer was no.
Steelin’ maself, squarin’ ma shoulders, and ignoring the wee voice in ma heid that squealed at me tae stop and keep Reid against his will, I marched doonstairs and announced tae him that we needed tae speak in private. Obligingly both Chronos and Fionn made their way up the stairs, leavin the two ae us alone amongst the antiques. He had a stony face, as usual, starin’ at me wi’ curious eyes, his characteristic frown pullin’ his thick eyebrows together.
There were a hundred ‘hings I couldae said, some bad, some good. Typically I went fae the worst one. I told him flatly that I didnae need him tae be ma familiar anymore. That was a bare faced lie. I liked havin’ him aroond, knowin he was there. Why did I put it that way? I further went on tae explain that if those dobbers in suits hadnae reappeared by noo, then he was probably safe. He didnae have tae stay in the shop and near me.
I found it difficult tae look at him when these words were spillin’ oot ma mouth like vomit after too many jaeger bombs. I thought I saw relief, I thought I noticed anger. Were his shoulders tenser than they had been? In the silences that followed ma words he never said anythin’, and this only prompted me tae speak more. Nonsensical excuses that came frae nowhere, and were nothin’ like the truth. In the end, in the silence he left, I grasped a hold ae the fox ring on ma finger, and wishin’ wi’ a ferocity that I’d reserved fae Madam Anora durin her invasion ae the shop, I willed that ring aff ma finger.
And it came aff. I couldnae believe it, but it’s no like I could show that. Stiffly, like I was holdin’ a filling that’d just fallen oot ae ma mouth, I awkwardly placed it on the glass counter. A sign that we were no longer apprentice and familiar, no longer connected. Free. We both stared at the ring, neither one ae us wantin’ tae see the other’s reaction. Eventually, after torturous silence when no one moved or said anything, and he realised I wasnae pickin the ring back up, he turned his heated gaze on me.
Human eyes were replaced wi the yellow/green ae a fox, narrowed in ma direction, anger burnin’ inside. I inhaled sharply, wanting tae take a few steps back but afraid if I moved things would get worse. Then it was smothered. His eyes returned tae normal and he took a frighteningly controlled breath oot. His fist lashed oot and grabbed the ring frae the counter violently. The last ‘hing he spat at me before he stormed away was, thanks fae nothin’.
Ma body went slack and I propped maself up on the counter, fae once despising the silence that lingered in the shop. Ma ring was gone, ma familiar was gone, and I felt like shite. That was a few days ago and it’s no been far frae ma thoughts. I dinnae know why I didnae just tell him the truth, that I thought I was holdin’ him back, keepin’ him frae better, happier ‘hings. His life, his family, his friends. I dinnae know why that felt so hard tae say. And it’s too late noo. Every time I arrive in the shop and he’s no there I have tae remind maself ae the reason. Every time the bell above the door goes I assume it’s him. I’m like a bloody dog waitin’ fae its owner. But this’ll pass, right? I did the right ‘hing. Didn’t I?