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There was an incident with an over-inquisitive teacher who suggested a trip to the school nurse, after which Mummy decided that said teacher was a barely literate, monolingual dullard whose only worthwhile qualification was a certificate in first aid.
For my twenty-first birthday gift, he therefore punched me in the kidneys,
I felt Raymond shift in his
having neither the wit nor the sophistication to see beyond mammaries and peroxide.
like a very unterrifying dragon.
The way she explained it, it all made sense. I should have been able to work it out for myself, really. I asked him to leave when I got home and, when he wouldn’t, I called the police, like she’d suggested. And that was that. Oh, and I changed the locks.”
He shook his head gently, for a long time, but seemed unable to articulate a response. No matter; I didn’t require one. The whole thing was ancient history now. I was happy being alone. Eleanor Oliphant, sole survivor—that’s me.
“How brave are you prepared to be, Eleanor?” Laura asked. This was the correct question. I am brave. I am brave, courageous, Eleanor Oliphant.
still resented all the monetary payments I’d been forced to make over the years to have a terrible time in a terrible place with terrible people on the last Friday before the twenty-fifth of December.
If I could perform scansion on the Aeneid, if I could build a macro in an Excel spreadsheet, if I could spend the last nine birthdays and Christmases and New Year’s Eves alone, then I’m sure I could manage to organize a delightful festive lunch for thirty people on a budget of ten pounds per capita.
“No thank you,” I said. “I don’t want to accept a drink from you, because then I would be obliged to purchase one for you in return, and I’m afraid I’m simply not interested in spending two drinks’ worth of time with you.”
I felt a flash of happiness, like a match being struck.
would happily assume her burden if I could. I’d barely notice it, I’m sure, on top of my own.
It’s both good and bad, how humans can learn to tolerate pretty much anything, if they have to.
I’d thought I could solve the problem of myself so easily,
Was I alive? I hoped so, but only because if this was the location of the afterlife, I’d be lodging an appeal immediately.
Whenever I’d been sad or upset before, the relevant people in my life would simply call my social worker and I’d be moved somewhere else.
Raymond had shown me a little of what it must be like, and I counted myself lucky to have had the opportunity.
Today, he’d arrived with a box of After Eight mints and, improbably, a helium-filled balloon.
He slurped his tea—a much less pleasant intrusion—and asked about the GP. Earlier in the week, after Raymond had delivered a persuasive argument about the importance of obtaining an expert,
Noticing details, that was good. Tiny slivers of life—they all added up and helped you to feel that you too could be a fragment, a little piece of humanity who usefully filled a space, however minuscule.
nonetheless forced to overhear the conversation of the couple in front of me as we waited our turn.
I was getting to quite like my own voice, my own thoughts.
I’d tried to cope alone for far too long, and it hadn’t done me any good at all. Sometimes you simply needed someone kind to sit with you while you dealt with things.
They’re happy to let her be herself, and, at the same time, are gently trying to help her be the best, happiest version of herself, without ever thinking or implying that what she is at the moment is anything other than completely fine.
