He was walking through the dense forest, hands in his pockets, wondering where it had all gone wrong. He reviewed in his mind’s eye all the events, and it proved impossible for him to identify what he could have done differently to change the outcome.
He had no esprit d’escalier, no esprit de nothing. He had done what he had done thinking, then and now, that it was the thing to do. The only thing that had given him a faint idea that something was up was this vague shift in mood, barely perceptible, like the flutter of tiny wings just moving the air in a gentle way, but enough to make the intimate candles lighting the table flicker, changing the atmosphere.
Was it fair though? Was it fair for him to be struck out of the group for something that he did not even know he had done? He felt the goalposts were being moved all the time, while he never got the chance to fully grasp what was happening.
He remembered the last dinner well. They were all sitting around the big oval table, chatting as you do with the people sat closest to you, it was always a lottery where you ended up. The hot topic at the time was games of power and manipulation. It was all generic and noncommittal, until he heard himself say out of the blue:
‘Even here, for us, it feels like a testosterone contest!’, and he chuckled. He did not read the ensuing silence, but he thought they did not hear him well, so he said it again, a bit louder, to make sure they all heard him. ‘Yeah, even with us it feels like an ongoing testosterone contest!’, he was very pleased with himself and did not notice how his comment was glossed over, followed by sideways glances from his male and female fellow diners.
He let out a big sigh and replaced the heavy air in his lungs with fresh, woody-smelling air. If only he could take it back, not say anything, just sit there enjoying the place, the people, the food, the event. He was so frustrated with himself!
He reviewed all sorts of scenarios in which he could make things better and get accepted back into the group, but he did not find any that was fit for purpose. What was done, was done, he just had to learn from it and deal with it.
‘Move on!’, he told himself while walking on the soft, leafy ground.
It felt strange to regret something he was complaining about before. Maybe that is what he had done, he had self-sabotaged because he was not enjoying the dinners. But he was … in a strange, difficult to explain way, he would have rather been there and be able to complain, than not be there at all.
Without paying any attention to his environment, he now woke up like from a dream and found he was in a part of the forest he had never been in before. The trees were so high that when he looked up, he was not able to see the sky or the sun. Fintan took out his phone and was surprised to see he had no signal. That was impossible, he could not remember the last time he had no signal. He always had a signal. His breathing got a bit erratic, and he felt anxiety rising in him.
He should go back. But where was back? He had gone in circles with his phone high up towards the sky, trying to find a signal and, now he was unsure where he had come from. All directions looked the same into the fading light.
‘Where do I go from here?’, he felt like crying but as he was all alone and there was nobody to take over or comfort him, he didn’t, he could not afford the meltdown. He needed to make a decision and stick with it.
‘I am strong! I can do this!’, he whispered to the fear taking hold of him and randomly chose a direction, walking very fast so he could not hear the strange noises the wood made.
It took him close to thirty minutes of fast, determined walking until he felt his phone vibrate in his hand with notifications. He could not focus on reading anything but the map with instructions on how to get out to the parking lot.
When Fintan finally saw his car it was the most beautiful sight he had seen in years. He quickly got in, locked the doors, and was able to relax at last with tears of relief silently going down his cheeks. The longest thirty minutes of his life… so far.
The phone kept on buzzing faintly in his hand. When he checked what was happening, Fintan was surprised to see that there were messages on the group chat about an upcoming dinner, and he was being asked to join.
His tears flowed even more generously. Tears of joy and double relief. They wanted him there, too! He was so happy! He made a promise to himself to keep his big mouth shut!
Of course, except for the bit where he would tell them how he got himself lost … in the woods.