Taking Root (Stardew Valley - Shane)

Chapter Seven

That evening at Marnie's house, under the glowing light of her kitchen lamp, had been eventful. I drew closer to the homely woman herself, learning more about the ins and outs of her daily life and the way her sense of humour worked. I had met the strikingly beautiful Emily - possibly weaving the way to a new friendship. And I had finally put a name to the pessimistic recluse that cut through the valley with a dark cloud hanging over his head.

"Shane."

The name suited him. Right? I had never met a Shane before. And now, as I muttered it under my breath while ripping away at the persistent weeds and overgrown switchgrass in front of me, it sounded like dark skies and lashing winds. It tasted like burning paracetamol on the tip of my tongue.

"What did you say?" I heard a voice question me from my left, my soul exiting my body from the shock of the interruption. It was Emily, dressed in another raspberry-red ensemble, her cobalt hair tangling in a stylish mess around her flushed cheeks.

"I - Plane!" I exclaimed, finding a word that rhymed with Shane in record time. "I saw a plane. There!"

If Stardew Valley hosted their own Oscars, how could I not be in the running for best actress with performances like these? My eyes scanning the cloudy sky above me, my arm outstretched, pointing at the non-existent plane as if it were as visible as the blinding sun. Katharine Hepburn, Olivia Coleman... please. They had nothing on me.

"Huh- I missed it." Emily grumbled to herself, her eyes following my pointing finger and finding nothing at the end of the trail. "That sucks, we don't see planes fly over the valley very often."

"Yeah, it's gone behind a cloud now." I lied, turning my attention back to the crawling weeds under my shadow. "It's nice to see you again. Can I help you with something?"

Emily's eyes widened as she was reminded of her original line of thought. "Oh! I was just, well, walking in the direction of your farm - and I was wondering if you were up to anything this evening."
"Well, After I clear out this bit of land here, I've just got to fasten some stakes into the ground for my hops starters to start climbing. It should only take a few hours."
"Oh, you're growing hops? Don't tell Pam." Emily threw her head back with a laugh, and reached out to grip my forearm with both of her hands. She was on the ground next to me now, resting her bodyweight on her knees. "Or, maybe you should. She'd totally be in love with you then."
"Pam?" I questioned, twirling the tip of a dandelion leaf between my forefinger and thumb. "I mean, I don't know what I'm doing with the hops. But I thought they might grow okay here, near the water."

I watched as Emily brushed my thoughts away with a single waft of her hands. "She's just this woman who comes into the Saloon every night, without fail. I guess she can't go to sleep without three pints of beer in her stomach."

Mental note #1: Do not supply Pam, seemingly the town drunk, with any by-product of said hops.

"Talking about the Saloon. Would you come tonight? You can sit at the bar and keep me company. Oh, please?"

Emily had finally made her real intentions of visiting me today crystal clear. A trip to the Saloon. I had never heard anybody describe their local pub as 'the Saloon' before. I'm sure it had to be the name. That, or we had transported back in time to the 1860s, and I would need to give myself a Wild West nickname to be fully prepared for the night. Sophie the Kid? Root Tootin' Farmer Soph? No, they didn't roll off the tongue quite right. Would everybody be wearing those big leather boots with the fiddly little spurs on?

I could see it now - Emily behind the bar with a cowboy hat balanced on her head, a woman who I imagined was Pam passed out drunk on the floor. I open the swinging doors of the establishment, only for the creak of a floorboard underneath my shoe to cause everybody inside to snap their heads towards me. My widened eyes meet with Shane's scathing green ones, and he reaches for an old pistol in the holster of his jeans. His lip curls open slightly to deliver the line - "this town ain't big enough for the both of us."

"Hello? Earth to Sophie-" Emily muttered sarcastically, waving a hand in front of my face. "So? Will you come?"

"I - um, yes."

"Oh brilliant!" She cried, wrapping her slender arms around my neck like a human scarf. "I finally have someone nice to talk to. I'm not sure if it will be busier tonight, though. Gus has got some offer on for pear cider because I accidentally added a 0 to the order form and now we have crates of the stuff."
"Like, busy busy?" I asked, wondering just exactly how many people in this sunshine town enjoyed a little tipple and a social atmosphere at the end of the week.
"Oh no, don't worry, it doesn't get too packed." Emily adjusted her enthusiastic tone and stared on at me reassuringly. "You don't like crowds? Well, we're only a small town."
"No - I don't mind crowds." I tried to explain, but it was hard to put my jumbled thoughts into a structured argument when they confused me just as much. "I mean, it used to be packed back in the city. It doesn't normally bother me - I just feel weird now. Different."

"Hey, it's a new place. I get it."

I could imagine that Emily's soft, angelic voice would normally reassure even the most anxious of souls - but right now, it didn't quite hit the mark. I wasn't afraid of bustling crowds, of unknown faces or buildings I hadn't stepped a toe into. I had never felt social anxiety tying my intestines up like a shoelace before - and yet here, in this picturesque postcard town, I had gathered more misshapen knots than a girl scout trying out for her next badge. Why? Because I knew that these strangers, that lived their intertwined lives like clockwork, would be more than passing faces on a pub dancefloor? That this is actually where I lived now, where the next ten years of my life would take root from - that these people were part of my future? Maybe if I kept my distance, it meant that it wasn't set in stone just yet.

Only, I couldn't quite keep my distance. Mainly because I couldn't admit to Emily that my plans for tonight were to take a long, blissful shower - the kind that leave you almost unconscious on the floor as soon as your toes step out of the tub. And that I wanted to parcel myself up in new pyjamas that were two sizes too big and throw myself onto a sofa full of lush blankets, and binge watch several episodes of Downton Abbey until I fall asleep. No, I couldn't bring myself to confess my schedule to my new bubbly friend, because I have no backbone, apparently. And now it was time to deal with the consequences of my weakness.

The saloon. I thought about it all afternoon, as I embedded dirt into the ridges of my fingertips and stained the third gingham shirt this week with sweat. I spent a considerably long time pushing the initial ridiculous image of the place out of my mind and debating who would actually be there - I could see Robin and Demetrius perched on rusty barstools, sipping away at glistening bottles of strawberry and lime Koppaberg. Maybe Marnie would be there, albeit minus her faded apron, catching up on some much needed downtime with mayor Lewis. But not Shane. I'll be honest, it was hard to actually imagine Shane in any kind of public social setting. I was sure that if other people were there, he wouldn't be. So there was an upside to the situation, I guess.

I didn't even know where to find the place. Emily had given me a concise list of directions, and they rattled around in my mind like tic tacs as the day churned on. Past the dilapidated bus stop, turn right at the doctor's - or was it turn left? Where was the doctor's, anyway?

It was truly a miracle that my feet had weaved their way like determined knitting needles, one in front of the other, until they had carried me to the crumbling stone paving that lay ahead of the public house. The brick walls looked warm and golden. They welcomed a large strip of creeping ivy that had been left to grow and tangle of its own fruition. My eyes traced over the dark lettering of the aged sign hanging above my head - The Stardrop Saloon.

The mahogany door opened with a determined creak, and Emily spotted me almost instantly - her face beaming like a faraway star as her arms waved at me manically. She motioned towards a woman slumped over the bar and mouthed "Pam's out!"

My feet stood frozen to the spot as my darting eyes scanned the scene afore me, and landed with a screeching halt on a certain towering cloud of darkness in human form - complete with his signature oversized sweatshirt and dark under-eyes.

Okay, so Shane was here. But he wasn't wearing a cowboy hat. And I didn't really want to stare at his trousers for too long, but I'm pretty sure I couldn't see a pistol hidden away down there, either.