Chapter Text
Marnie was not coy about how surprised she was the following morning when Shane trudged into the kitchen.
“Shane!” Of course, she tried to modulate her voice a bit, but there was no mistaking how unexpected Shane’s presence was. “You’re here.”
That felt like salt in the wound to Shane, who poured himself a glass of orange juice and tried to maintain his poker face. “Well, I do live here.”
“Of course. Well, I’m going to Pierre’s today. Do you want anything?”
A new identity in another country, Shane thought grimly. “No, I’m okay.”
“Okay. Well, if you think of anything, let me know.”
The only thing Shane could think of in that moment was how he had had his chance yesterday, and blown it in the most spectacular fashion imaginable. In the cold light of morning, his fears the previous night seemed unwarranted, even silly. He had shot himself in the foot because he was scared of getting dumped a year down the line? What an absolute joke. And it wasn’t like he could do anything about it now. What was he going to say? “Hey, sorry I left you hanging after you invited me into your home and offered to let me spend the night, I just have really powerful abandonment issues that manifest themselves as emotional distance, it’s been so long that another person has shown a desire for emotional or physical intimacy with me that I have no idea how to react”?
Shane wanted to die. How many people had seen him walk off the beach with her last night? How many people were going to talk now? He was almost happy that Morris had absolutely no connection to the town, because at least he wouldn’t pry. Shane was left to mire himself in his own despair for the workday, which suited him just fine. He stocked shelves and wondered why he was such a screw-up for the next eight hours, which was all he cared for multitasking. As quitting time rolled around, he wondered if he should chance a visit to the saloon. It was a Monday night; it should be sparse. And it beat going home and having Marnie walk on eggshells around him. Truth be told, getting drunk felt like a pretty good idea to him. He’d made the worst decision of his life stone sober the night before; what was booze going to do to top that? His made his way to the saloon, slid onto a stool, and ordered a pint.
If Gus or Emily knew anything, they weren’t letting on. Shane was grateful for the solitude, and even more grateful for the discretion. He sat in silent remorse for a while and was well into his fourth pint when Lewis sat down next to him.
Oh, great. Shane’s patience was already dry; he didn’t want to imagine how the next ten minutes were going to go. As if on cue, Gus slid Lewis a drink, and then found a spot on the far side of the bar that urgently needed scrubbing.
“Shane,” Lewis said casually. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Shane said, fighting to keep his voice neutral.
“How’s Joja Mart?”
“Fine.” This entire conversation was becoming so stilted that it was going to cause Shane physical pain if it continued. Lewis took a long sip of his beer. Shane was wondering who would crack first. Of course, it was him. “What do you want?”
“Just to talk. You’re Marnie’s nephew, but we’ve never really had a conversation.”
“Well, I do work for the company that’s trying to shut down the general store.”
“That’s not your fault.” Lewis took another swig of beer. “How do you like it at Joja Mart?”
“I mean, it’s okay, I guess. It’s a job.”
“Do you see yourself there for a while?”
“Maybe? I don’t know.”
“Shane, let me offer you some free advice.” Shane would really rather he didn’t, but there was no graceful way to stop the conversation now, and he was too drunk and sad to resist. “I have spent the entirety of my adult life as mayor of Pelican Town. And I loved it. Still do.” He paused for another swig of beer. “But sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have poured as much of myself as I did into the job. I never married, never had children, never opened myself up to everything else that was out there. And when I get to be too old to do the job, what else is going to be left for me?” Lewis looked at Shane, and Shane was surprised to see something very similar to loneliness on the other man’s face. “I made that sacrifice for a job I loved. I can’t imagine doing it for one that I didn’t.”
“You want to get to the point?”
“Shane, I can’t think of a worse idea than spending your life alone, doing something you hate, until you get old enough to realize what a mistake you’ve made. Hindsight’s the worst curse we inherited as a species; believe me when I say there’s no feeling quite as bad as regret.”
Shane sighed. “Marnie told you, didn’t she?”
“Oh, yeah. She also told Pierre, who told Caroline, who mentioned it to Robin at step class, who told Maru, who told Harvey, who--”
“Is this entire town invested in my love life or something?”
“Shane, be reasonable. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened to us in years.”
“Lewis, don’t take this the wrong way, but mind your own business.”
“Suit yourself.” Lewis shrugged. “You don’t have to listen to me. But for goodness’ sake, at least listen to yourself. You don’t want Joja to take the best years of your life.”
Lewis left a tip on the counter and walked away, whistling as he did so. Shane looked over at Gus, who looked back and shrugged. “You want to weigh in on this, too?” Shane asked.
“No. But Emily thinks you two would be cute together.”
Shane looked over at Emily, who nodded vigorously and gave him a thumbs up. He sighed heavily, and ran a hand through his hair. “When did everybody start caring about this?”
Gus took Shane’s empty pint glass. “Look, I get it, it’s easier to just not bother with the whole rigamarole. That doesn’t make it painless, though.”
“I’m gonna go.” Shane slid off his bar stool. This was too much for him at the moment. “I’ll see you around, Gus.”
“Sure thing.”
Shane didn’t feel like going home; his bed had suddenly begun to feel small and cold, and his thoughts were unbearably loud. The river was bright under the moon, and the wind was gentle. He felt that he was up against an immeasurably tall wall, and on the other side of it was a life worth living. His heart hurt.
More pressingly, he wasn’t going to be able to avoid her forever.
Shane checked his phone; it was still early, only nine. The idea of talking to her filled him with dread, but a larger part of him wanted--well, it wanted something. He couldn’t decide what. Everything, it was saying, was right in front of him, if he would just be brave enough to do it. In fact, in some happier alternate universe, he had sealed the deal the previous night and had probably eaten pancakes or something for breakfast that morning, bathed in post-coital bliss. In that universe, he had probably also quit his job at Joja Mart and was raising fancy chickens. Shane realized, with growing irritation, that Lewis was completely right. He was stuck in a rut, and he was either unwilling or unable to crawl out of it. He had everything he wanted in front of him, right within reach if he would only extend his fucking arm to grab it. Was he going to go after it or not?
“Shane!”
Of course, sometimes those things go after you, too.
Shane turned and saw the farmer all but jogging down the road toward him, and his stomach withered. As she neared him, he saw that she looked achingly tired, and he felt a pang of guilt.
“I went looking for you at the saloon, but Gus said that you’d left,” she said, fighting to catch her breath.
“Yeah,” Shane managed to choke out.
“Look, I owe you an apology,” she said, her voice jittery. “I obviously came on too strong last night, especially when you already told me you just wanted to be friends. I’m sorry about that. I should have considered your--”
“Dyouwannagonadatewithme,” Shane blurted out.
The farmer paused mid-speech, and her expression shifted to disbelief. “Excuse me?”
Shane couldn’t blame her; he had trouble believing he’d just said that, too. “Do you want to go on a date. With me.”
“You want to go on a date,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
“And this isn’t a joke. No fooling.”
“No. Look, you’re probably aware of this by now, but I’m a mess. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life and I hate my job, and I hate this town, but after I got to know you, I started hating everything a little bit less. I don’t know how you managed to do that, but if you still want to go for it, after everything I’ve done, then I’m game to try it out.”
“You’re sure,” she said.
“I’m as sure as I can be. Look, I’m not going to lie, the idea of this still scares the hell out of me, but we’re not having much luck with staying friends. I want to try, but… can we keep it quiet for now, and just take it slow and see where it leads?”
A smile bloomed across the farmer’s face. “Yeah. We can go slow.” She reached out and grabbed his hands in hers, and then immediately loosened her grip. “Is this okay? Is this too much?”
“No,” Shane smiled. “No, this is okay.” He had not noticed it the previous night, but her hands were a far cry from when when she had first reached out to shake his hand with blistered and bandaged fingers. Her hands had grown as hard and smooth as river rocks in her time in Pelican Town. “Where do we go from here?” He asked.
“How about at the Stardrop tomorrow after work?” She asked.
“And we’ll take it from there.”
“Yeah.” She squeezed his hands gently. “Walk me home.”
“Why?”
“Relax, I’m not going to jump you. I have your hoodie there.”
Walking with her, hand in hand, felt strange to Shane. It had been a while since he’d last done this, and he had to switch how he oriented his hand against hers, how to match pace with her, how closely to walk without bumping into one another. But he did alright, all things considered, and he was grateful for how easily conversation still came to them. It matched the timbre of their previous conversations, just with some hand-holding.
“You know,” the farmer said as they neared her porch, “that offer last night wasn’t conditional.”
“What do you mean?”
“You could have told me you didn’t want to get, you know, physical. I wouldn’t have thrown you out. You could have just slept over without, uh, ‘sleeping over.’”
“It wasn’t just that.” Shane rubbed the back of his head. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been with another person, and I… I don’t know, I panicked. What if you woke up this morning and said it was a mistake?”
“Fat chance. Stay here.” She disappeared inside and returned with his hoodie, folded neatly. “This is yours.”
Shane inspected it. “Did you wash this?”
“...Yes.”
Shane ignored the urge to engage; he was just happy he had his hoodie back. He’d felt naked without it. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” The farmer smiled. “And, look, I know this feels like a risk for you. But I’m happy you’re taking a chance on it, anyway.”
“And you’re okay with going slow?”
“We can go however slow you want.”
“Okay.” Shane leaned in, and gently kissed her on the cheek. “Dinner, tomorrow night?”
“Sounds good. Should I wear my fancy dress?”
“You don’t own one of those, and we both know it.”
“Okay, you got me.” The farmer rolled her eyes. “Tomorrow night. It’s a date. Just don’t order a salad for me.”
“You got it.”
Optimism was not a feeling Shane was well-acquainted with, but it still warmed his thoughts on his way back to Marnie’s. He had a date! With a woman he liked! An honest to goodness date at a restaurant, a meet-at-a-set-time, order-dinner, he-should-pay date. The autumn evening seemed downright warm to him at that fact. And for whatever strife the future might hold (and make no mistake, it did hold plenty), for Shane, that night was good.