The Burnout(101)

Old Sasha would have put it off. Clung to the status quo. Avoided anything challenging or hard or hurtful.

But new Sasha knows what she has to do.

“How was therapy?” I begin.

“Good.” He nods. “Heavy duty. Kind of exhausting. How’ve you been? How was the meeting?”

There’s so much to tell him. About my job, about Joanne, even about #RecommendedbySasha—but there’s only one conversation I need to have right now.

“All good,” I say. “Finn, I was wondering …”

“Yes?”

I take a sip of champagne, playing for time, my lips trembling. Everything depends on this.

“I never properly asked you,” I say lightly. “Why exactly did you get so angry? What was the source of your stress? Was it work? Or … something else?”

The door is open. Wide open. If he wants to tell me now, he can.

“Work,” says Finn promptly. “Overwork. Lack of sleep. Like you.”

“But what led to the overwork?” I press. “What led to the lack of sleep?” Instantly, Finn looks evasive and slugs his drink.

“It was … a difficult situation,” he says at length. “Things were really hard.”

Torment has come into his eyes, as though he’s in a place I can’t reach. That’s not the look you get when you’re overworked. It’s the look you get when your heart is twisted up by love. He’s twisted up, I can tell. He’s not mended, not healed, and not nearly ready to find love with anyone else.

“What kind of difficult situation?” I force myself to ask, and Finn starts as though he was completely lost in thought for a moment.

“Well. Like yours, I guess. Having to take on the work of other staff, because of …” He trails off vaguely, and my heart shrivels. He’s just mirroring what I said.

“Did you speak to your manager about it?” I ask, and Finn’s eyes swivel.

“Not really. Should have done, I guess.”

“But that was the main issue?” I persist. “Understaffing at work? Or … ?”

A kind of desperation has come to Finn’s face. “It was … I don’t know. Things were difficult.”

I gaze at him silently. If my eyes could talk, they’d be saying, Finn, you can’t hide from me. You’re keeping her a secret. You’re keeping it all a secret. You’re not ready to move on.

“Where are the drinks?” adds Finn, looking around as though he has a burning need to escape, and I feel a wave of compassion for him. Because here’s the thing. I never actually asked him, Are you in love with someone else? My bad. Maybe next time I ask the universe for a man, I’ll know better.

I have two options. I can reveal. I can demand to know. I can tear down this tender friendship we have, for the sake of … what?

Or I can act with dignity.

“So, I was thinking,” I say. “We need to be careful.”

“Careful?” Finn looks confused.

“We’ve both been burned out. We’ve both been through bad times. We both need to sort our lives. And this has been so great.” I gesture from him to me. “So great.” I sound for all the world like a kind, confident woman letting a man down lightly. “But, Finn, we can’t be each other’s sticking plaster.”

“Sticking plaster?” He looks aghast. “That’s not— I don’t see you as—”

“I know. But maybe this isn’t …” I swallow. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. After all.”

I lapse into silence and see the emotions pass through his eyes—shock as he understands, followed by resistance, acceptance, sadness. Each one makes me want to cry out, Only joking! But I stay motionless, resolute, the strong one.

“Right,” says Finn at last, his voice heavy. “I mean, I get what you’re saying.”

“You should focus on your therapy.”

And your heart. And your shattered relationship with the love of your life.

“I guess.” He nods. “I just thought … we were having a good time.”

“We were. It was amazing.” Tears are pricking my eyes. “Amazing.”

“Sasha, are you OK?” His eyes are searching my face anxiously, as though for answers. “Was it—us—a mistake?”

Yes, because I’m spoiled for anyone else, forever.

“Of course not. It was …” I shake my head. “Sublime.”

“That’s how I feel too.” He grasps my forearms. “Sasha, I respect what you’re saying. I do. There are issues. But do we have to be so hasty? Could we talk?”

I gaze up into his perplexed face, seeing the tension etched in every fine line. There’s an unhappiness there that I never detected before. A big, private unhappiness that I can’t soothe.

“Look after yourself, Finn,” I whisper, feeling my throat constrict.

For a few tense moments he just stares at me desperately, as though casting around for the way to make this not happen. Then, with a sigh, he gives up.

“Look after yourself too.” He releases my arms and runs a tender hand down my cheek. “Let’s both look after ourselves, OK?”

“OK.” I nod, my face stiff with a not-real smile. “It’s a deal. I’ll manifest it. ‘Finn’s wellness.’ I’ll write it on a piece of paper and keep it in my pocket, and the universe will grant it.”