‘He was a problem-solver too,’ she says to me. ‘You solve this city’s problems everyday, yet you seem to be struggling with your own. What’s up?’
We sit in reflective silence for a few seconds.
‘I . . . oh, I dunno, maybe I’m just a bit jaded by it all, you know?’ I blurt out. ‘Nora just said something that hurt me a bit but I’m supersensitive right now and shouldn’t overanalyse it. I’m fine.’
Gloria raises an eyebrow, totally unconvinced.
‘I used to love my life,’ I tell Gloria, ‘and I know that I have very little to complain about compared to many others who have real problems, so what on earth is wrong with me? Why does it feel like it’s not enough? Why do I feel so—’
‘Empty?’ Gloria looks like she has heard it all before.
‘Yes, that’s it. Empty. Like something is missing.’
‘You know, it’s okay not to be okay as the saying goes, Ruth?’ says Gloria, with meaning that comes right from her core. ‘You need to go easier on yourself. Something is missing. Someone is missing, should I say. It’s early days and you’ve lost your biggest fan, the one you leaned on and looked up to and the one you looked after for the past few years. A time to grieve – you’ve heard of that, right?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Be your own friend for a change, honey,’ says Gloria. ‘And as for Miss Nora?’
‘Yes?’ I nod.
‘She’s a work colleague, yes?’
‘Yes, she’s a great features writer,’ I tell Gloria. ‘I don’t think she’d give me back the same compliment, though, but she’s going places at work, is Miss Nora.’
I laugh but it’s true. Nora is very competitive and would trample all over me to get into Margo’s ear.
‘She’s not really your friend,’ whispers Gloria, shaking her head.
Her words hit me hard.
‘None of those hangers-on who meet you in here for a coffee here and a bite of lunch there are your true friends,’ she says. ‘You’re worth way more than that, Ruth Ryans, and you know it. You need people in your life who care for that beautiful, fragile heart of yours, not people who just want a slice of the action or to be seen in your company to better themselves. If you had true friends, you might not feel so empty. Or should I say, lonely.’
‘Lonely? But I’m not—’
‘I know, I know. How can you be lonely when your life is so busy?’ says Gloria. ‘You don’t need to be alone to feel lonely, Ruth.’
I get what she is saying, I really do. I just wish I knew how I can feel fulfilled again.
‘Maybe working from home isn’t so good for you right now,’ Gloria suggests, and of course this has also crossed my own mind. ‘Would Margo give you a desk at the Today office again? At least then you’d have some sort of interaction with real people every day. Company.’
I shake my head.
‘I work freelance now for Margo and they’re cramped as it is,’ I explain. ‘Plus I’m saving her a fortune, working from home, and I get a bonus for it. I need that bonus to help towards the house. It’s totally draining me so I’ve put it on the market. I’m selling up and I’m moving on.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes,’ I tell Gloria. ‘It’s big and empty and costs a fortune to heat plus it really needs to be decorated.’
‘Okay . . .’
‘It looks and smells and feels like it’s stuck in a time warp. And it is stuck. Her pictures are everywhere and I sometimes think I can still smell her perfume from all those years ago. Do you think that’s still possible? Plus I keep having that same dream about her calling me to help with the Christmas tree. Do you think I’m going mad? Maybe I am going mad.’
Gloria takes a big deep breath.
‘Sell it then, yes!’ she says to me. ‘Or rent it out to a family who could fill it with the love that it craves? Find somewhere new for you and start afresh. You might just need a fresh start and there’s nothing wrong with that, Ruth.’
I look up sharply.
‘I already have the sign up and it’s online and everything but. . . do you really think I could?’
‘Why not?’ she asks me. ‘Bricks and mortar never made anyone who they are. Find somewhere new if it’s dragging you down. Walk on. Walk away. Your daddy would understand.’
My stomach gurgles at the thought, yet the sense of relief that joins the very idea is something I can’t ignore. I have no need for such a big house and that dream I keep having . . . maybe I could. Maybe I should?
‘Oh, don’t mind me, Gloria,’ I mumble. ‘I’m just a big fat bag of misery these days.’
Gloria swallows hard. ‘You are allowed to be miserable,’ she whispers.
‘I just don’t know if I fit in around here any more,’ I confess. ‘I feel like I’m plugged out from this city; do you get what I’m saying?’
Gloria folds her arms under her generous bust. ‘This will always be your hometown,’ she reminds me. ‘It’s in you, and you are in the heart of this community. People look up to you, they always have. They admire you from afar and they admire you up close – except of course for some of the jealous bitches who cross your path, like Nora. But you can’t dwell on those types. Maybe you just need a little reminder of how special you are and how many people you have helped through your kind words and gentle ways.’
‘I can’t even think in that way right now,’ I admit to Gloria. ‘Maybe I’ll shake out of this soon and get back on track.’
‘It’s okay to be angry and to cry and kick and scream when we have to,’ she says. ‘Don’t you dare bottle it in, baby girl. You can whinge and cry to me anytime you want, do you hear?’
I sniffle and fish a tissue from my jacket pocket to dab my nose.
‘I know I can . . . but what do you think I should do to make things better, apart from selling the house?’ I ask her, feeling like the teenage girl who used to come to her with my problems when I felt my dad was finding it tough and I didn’t want to burden him with my worries on top of his own.
‘You need to find something or someone to give all that love inside you to,’ she says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. ‘You need real friendship, real love.’
‘If only it was as easy as that,’ I tell her. ‘You know me by now. I don’t do the whole love thing. I can’t.’
‘Yes you can!’ she tells me right back. ‘You and your sister were always special people and I hate to see you looking so low. It’s not the real you. You deserve so much more. I’m not talking necessarily about romantic love, Ruth, but when was the last time you loved someone that wasn’t your dad or your sister?’
Her question stuns me. I don’t know what to say.
‘I dunno,’ I reply with a shrug. ‘Maybe never? And what is love, anyway?’
Gloria looks at me in mock disgust.
‘Ah, come on, girl! How can someone so young and with the world at her feet be so cynical?’ she bellows. ‘What is love? It’s the greatest thing in the world!’
I laugh as Gloria expresses herself with her hands waving in the