‘Things You Should Be Afraid Of’, an extensive but not exhaustive list by Poppy Blanche Carter:

That there is hypocrisy in lobbying against victim blaming but refusing to walk home at night by yourself

Susan Miller dying

Gen X becoming like boomers

Nuclear war

A robot taking your job

If the priest has washed his hands before giving communion

Never getting to the stage where you don’t mentally add up your grocery basket before going to the checkout

Being homeless in your sixties

The pension not existing when you’re in your sixties

The moon – it is not trustworthy

People finding out you secretly think cultural appropriation is not a real problem

That you’re inherently unlovable

Your parents getting old. Truly old

Having to move home when home is fifteen hours from anything interesting

Being left behind

Being irrelevant

Never properly understanding political theory

Brioche buns

Things you shouldn’t be afraid of:

Looking fat at your sister’s wedding

Ruining your sister’s wedding

Ruining everything

Poppy looked up from her phone and sighed. She had always been averse to recording her thoughts, but some long-ago article in what would euphemistically be called a ‘women’s’ magazine had suggested lists. At least once a month she found herself typing two fingered, into the notes section of her iPhone, lists that were loosely based on what had distressed her lately. She knew she had come home at a stressful time: her work was in flux, her renting situation was in flux, it would be generous to say that the state of her finances was in flux. And now she had an almost severe allergic reaction to Claudia’s wedding. She found herself relegated to the role of sooky youngest child and bizarrely played along accordingly.

The brute force of her changes in mood shocked even her at times. But she also felt helpless in the face of them. If she examined her situation closely she guessed she would find shame at the root of it. The week with Claudia had seemed a parade of everything she was failing at. Poppy wanted to be happy for her sister but felt her faith broken in a queer way by how easy it was for her. She had the partner, she had the job, she had the city life. There was so much Poppy would’ve done for an ounce of the security and yet Claudia was so blasé about it. She was blasé about it and also seemed further and further from Poppy with each year. When they were teenagers, Claudia would have been more loyal; she would not have brought a friend into what was supposed to be a family week.

Poppy had always had problems with rage, but she had shocked even herself with what had been brought to the fore this week. Before she had only been dimly aware of the fury that was evidently running through her veins. After each outburst she felt guilty, but then Nora would show up, rubbing in their faces her bond with their sister. Or Claudia would appear, apparently manufacturing emotional problems the week before her wedding while Poppy had her own real problems. She was still dismissed as a baby; every suggestion she made was talked down; she couldn’t even raise the prospect of doing something different with the daisies without feeling as though she was being derided. She was just an extra at any supposedly important family event, basically ignored at the dress fitting, entire conversations going on as if she didn’t exist on the beach day. If that wasn’t enough, she’d watched Nora being deferred to the whole week, with Claudia sneaking off to the motel room thinking she was so clever and that nobody would know where she was spending those hours.

Coming home had only confirmed to Poppy how alone she was.