Wesley Yorstead Goes Outside by Stephanie Harper / #Extract #BlogTour @RABTBookTours @StephHarWrites

On 4 mei 20212 mei 2021 door elsinHarper Stephanie - Wesley Yorstead Goes OutsideEen reactie plaatsen

When an agoraphobic man develops a relationship with a vivacious grocery delivery woman, the order he prescribes to his apartment, and his world, begins to crumble around him. Wesley Yorstead Goes Outside explores the life of Wesley Yorstead, a thirty-three year old graphic novelist who suffers from a severe case of agoraphobia that has kept him shut inside for over five years. When he meets Happy Lafferty for the first time, delivering groceries on behalf of her father’s neighborhood market, Wesley can’t shake the inherent magnetism between them and seeks to get to know this young woman who invades his space—both physical and mental. As their relationship grows more intimate, the restrictions of his situation become an even greater obstacle. When Happy’s past comes back to haunt her, Wesley must decide if he can finally leave his apartment to help. A meditation on anxiety, fear, and human connection, Wesley Yorstead Goes Outside asks the reader to consider what our fears take away from our lives, and how we might overcome them.

Extract

Chapter 1

It’s mid-morning on a Sunday in mid-September and the persistent knock at the door can only mean one thing. Angel’s arrived with my groceries. Angel works for Lafferty’s Neighborhood Market, a small place run by a boisterous man of Irish descent. The store has existed for four generations, since the original proprietors came over from the Emerald Isle. The original is in Manhattan. The current Mr. Lafferty’s parents brought a satellite store to Denver, or so it says on the website. I’ve never met the man in person, but the sturdiness of his voice suggests he hasn’t missed too many pints of Guinness over the years. What’s important is that he’s willing to send a delivery every week, and he doesn’t ask a lot of questions. This makes his service indispensable.

Angel’s the stereotypical grocery boy. He makes his deliveries in uniform black slacks and white button down. He’s got slicked back hair and a gold chain around his neck. If I were to sketch him, he’d sport oversized jeans that hung so low he’d have to waddle. Maybe that’s unfair. He’s been delivering my groceries for a while now, and he seems like a decent kid—always polite. He’s quiet and unassuming and he gets in and out as fast as he can, which I appreciate because it means I don’t have to struggle to converse with him. He comes in and puts my brown paper sacks on the stainless steel counter in the kitchen, then stands silent, looking at his feet. A month into our arrangement, he asked if there was anything he could do to help me. I sent him down to the mailbox to get my mail. Now, that’s part of an unspoken agreement. I hand him my key and start to organize my groceries while he runs downstairs. I feel bad, making him run up and down, but he doesn’t seem to mind and it’s a federal offense to make a copy of a mail key. Not that I’d give him one anyway. He comes back and after I reopen the door he hands me

my mail, always with the key on top. Then, he waits for me to produce the magic checkbook and send him away with a little piece of paper, my signature scrawled across the bottom.

“How much?” I’ll ask after I’ve checked that all my groceries are here. He recites the amount he’s been given with an unobtrusive certainty and tosses me a sheepish grin. I return a small smile before ripping the check out and handing it to him. Then I’ll open the locked box where I keep cash and slide a generous tip across the countertop. He’ll take the money and disappear as inconspicuously as he entered, and I’ll relock the doorknob, deadbolt, and chain behind him.

The buzzer rings again. This is unlike Angel, who might stand and wait all day if I chose not to answer. I don’t bolt out of my chair. I’m in the middle of inking a preliminary sketch for my To Kill a Mockingbird project. It’s jarring, being pulled away from my work like this. It reminds me where I really am. I place the cap back on my pen and blow across the fresh lines enough to ensure they don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.

I take a few long strides across my front room, stretching as I go.

“I’m coming,” I call out, though it’s not entirely necessary. Where else would I be?

Before I answer, I pause to straighten my polo, check to make sure the collar is still turned down. I run my fingers through my light blond hair. It’s easier for me to just to trim the edges with a pair of scissors than to try and buzz it. Right now, it’s a little long, and it falls in my eyes more often than I’d like. I smooth my gray slacks, careful not to mark them with any residual ink on my hands. I’ve always dressed professionally, even here in the apartment, when I’m the only one to see. It’s one thing I can do for myself.

Thank you, Stephanie Harper and RABT Book Tours

About the author

Stephanie Harper is the author of Wesley Yorstead Goes Outside (Propertius Press, 2020), as well as a poetry collection entitled Sermon Series (Finishing Line Press, 2017). She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Fairfield University. She’s written personal essays and articles for many publications online and in print. She currently lives in Littleton, CO.

Author Links

Website: https://stephanieharperauthor.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/StephHarWrites

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17190916.Stephanie_Harper

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