by Fisher, Kari
OF COURSE I WANT TO! “Sure. Sounds good.”
I enter my apartment, locking the door behind me. My legs literally feel like they’re about to melt. I lean against the door for support. I should go to sleep but I’m definitely not tired.
NyQuil strolls towards me and rubs up against my leg, purring.
“Hey, Nike.” I sit on the floor beside him and give him a scratch behind the ears. “I really like Oliver. I hope you do, too.”
I giggle at myself, actually concerned about my cat’s approval.
I walk into my bedroom, letting my dress slide off and fall to the floor. I change into my pajamas and collapse onto my bed. There’s no way I’m going to sleep anytime soon.
Suddenly, I’m painting. I’m not even quite sure how I got from my bed to the canvas in my study, but I am painting.
Perhaps this was the exact inspiration I needed. I’m throwing red paint at the canvas; the color of passion. I’m not sure where I am going with this yet, but I know this is where I need to start.
This feels amazing. I feel alive.
This is the feeling I was looking for when I moved to this city. It feels as if a giant burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I spend an hour painting red abstract shapes onto the canvas, and another hour sitting in front of the canvas, just looking at it.
I can sleep now.
Feeling good about myself for finally being productive, I wash the red off my hands in the kitchen sink. I watch as the color falls off of my skin, swirls with the water, and then runs down the drain. I am nowhere near finished this painting, but I feel like I have finally gotten something meaningful done. So meaningful, in fact, that I may actually want to keep this one for myself.
I pull the elastic out of my ponytail and let my hair fall softly onto my shoulders. I curl up into bed, hugging a pillow tightly. I fall asleep, imagining that I am in Oliver’s arms tonight, and in my dreams, he holds me until morning.
Chapter Four
I feel too claustrophobic within these walls
My alarm clock goes off, startling me. I quickly sit up in bed and look around my bedroom, which is still dark at this ungodly hour. I am exhausted from having stayed up late, but oddly, I feel refreshed at the same time.
I reach for my cell phone, noticing that the tiny blue light in the corner is flashing. It’s a text message.
Good morning, beautiful. Have a good day at work.
It’s from Oliver. I wonder if he woke up this early just to send me that message. It’s an excellent start to my day.
Thanks, you too,
I reply. I hop out of bed and wander into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.
I only have an hour to get to work, but I make it on time. The grocery store is uneventful, as usual, but my short four hour shift feels like it lasts for days. I just want to get home so I can see if Oliver has sent me another message. When I am finally done, I literally run home.
I am met by a distressing surprise; there’s an eviction notice on the door of my apartment. I pull it down, hoping no one else has seen it, and I slip inside. I sink down to my knees, clutching the paper in my hand. It seems my account was overdrawn, and my last two rent checks have bounced. I am now two months late with just over fifteen hundred dollars owing.
I don’t even know how this is possible. I haven’t checked my bank account, because I only use it for rent—I keep cash on me for anything else, but I was sure there was enough in there to make the payments.
I call the bank right away, hoping this is a mistake.
They explain that a purchase was made, using my debit card, that made my first rent payment bounce. As a result, I was charged a fee for non-sufficient funds, which caused the next payment to bounce as well.
They couldn’t disclose any more information than that, but they suggested I visit my local branch to see if they’d be able to offer a more in-depth explanation.
I hang up the phone and sink into the soft cushions of my couch.
What purchase are they talking about?
I get a text message and I hope it isn’t Oliver, because I really don’t feel like talking to him right now. I definitely don’t want to have to explain what’s going on.
Thankfully, it isn’t him. It’s Shay. I decide not to answer her. I need to get this sorted out, so I head to the bank.
Chapter Five
I let it engulf me; take over my mind and my soul
“I’m sorry, ma’am. The only thing this shows is that it was a two-hundred dollar purchase the day you moved to the city,” the clerk explains.
“I haven’t bought anything here except paint supplies, and I paid cash for those. This must be a mistake,” I plead.
“We can definitely investigate. I can have someone call you in ten business days.”
“That’s really not good enough. I’m going to be evicted from my apartment if this isn’t sorted out any sooner than that,” I explain, almost in tears at this point.
“I’m really sorry, ma’am. I truly am. There isn’t anything else I can do at this point, though. We do need to look into it. I can have someone contact you with the results of the investigation, but other than that, my hands are tied,” the clerk apologizes.
I don’t even respond to her. I turn and run out of the bank, feeling defeated. Tears are running down my cheeks and people on the sidewalk are staring.
Where will I go?
I feel completely and utterly useless. I consider moving back to my grandma’s, but I don’t even have a way to get there.
I want to talk to Oliver.
I don’t expect him to do anything—offer me a place to stay, or anything like that. I just need to talk to him. I need him to tell me that I can figure this out and that everything will be okay.
I send him a text, asking if he wants to come by once he’s done work today.
Chapter Six
The edge is just a step away
I take a hot bath. I keep my cell phone on the ledge of the tub, waiting for Oliver to respond. I am patient, because I know he’s busy with interviews today.
I try not to think of the fact that he might hire a tall, skinny blonde to replace Frederick, because that’s what his customers like. Maybe it’s even something he likes.
I try not to think of the girl who brought her resume in and talked to him like I didn’t exist—what was her name? Tara, I think.
I try even harder not to think of Tara leaning over the table in her low cut shirt, telling him she’d be a perfect fit for the position. I’m sure she’d make a good barista. And possibly a good girlfriend, too. She seemed intelligent, she definitely had good looks going for her—and she probably isn’t on the verge of eviction, with her life in shambles. She’s definitely better “girlfriend material” than I am at this point.
I’m twenty-six years old and I don’t even have my life together. I can’t expect to be in a relationship with anyone when I am so clearly broken.
My phone beeps. It’s Oliver. Tara hasn’t stolen him yet.
Hey, Laur, what’s up?
Coffee. My place?
Sure. Busy now though. Text you later, ok?
Sounds good.
I write back—but it doesn’t sound good at all. I need to talk to someone before I lose my mind, so I text Shay instead.
Shay replies quickly, and agrees to meet up downtown in an hour.
I put my phone down on the bathroom floor, and sink deeper into the scalding bath water. I briefly consider drowning. I hold my breath for just a bit too long, and then let it out, feeling dizzy. The need to exhale just seems exhausting, and many of my problems would be solved if I could just slip away right now.
I had better get dressed and leave. I sigh and pull the plug out of the drain. I sit in the bath until the water is completely gone and I’m cold. Even then, I still don’t want to move, but I have to.
Chapter Seven
I don’t want to drown tonight
I still have too much to say
“You’re being evicted? How did you not notice your rent payments not coming out?” Shay whispers, leaning in from the seat across from me, where we sit at the breakfast diner.
“I don’t know. I just didn’t, I guess. I only put enough in for my rent, and I pay for anything else I need with cash,” I explain. Tears are burning my eyes once again.
“I’m sorry, Laur. What are you going to do? You know I’d offer you a place to stay but you know I just don’t have the room.”
“Oh, I know, Shay. I wouldn’t ask that of you, anyway. At this point, I think I might just go back to my grandma’s for a while, and then figure things out. I was starting to really like it here, but I just can’t pay my bills,” I sigh.
“What if you take the job Oliver was offering you?” Shay asks.
“That would be awkward.”
“Losing your apartment is awkward. Moving back to your grandma’s is awkward. You should give it a shot. You’ve got nothing to lose,” she suggests.
“I don’t know. I really don’t want to ruin our friendship or something. If I did take it, it would only be temporary. I can’t work there forever. I’d like to sell some of my art, and then maybe land a marketing position somewhere. I just really don’t know.”
The waitress comes by to refill our coffee and take our orders. Shay orders first, and then turns to me. I shake my head, not wanting anything to eat. I’m not hungry.
“You need to eat something,” Shay says, chastising me. “Get the falafel.”
“Why would I want falafel? I’ve never tasted it, but it’s probably as bad as it sounds: full-awful,” I joke.
Shay gives me a sour look, and I promptly order oatmeal and toast. I realize I barely have any money to pay for it. Almost as though she read my mind, Shay mentions that both of our orders are on one bill.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” she replies.
“I think I’m going to go visit my grandma this weekend and try to relax,” I finally say.
“That might be a good idea.”
We finish our meals while I buy a train ticket for tonight on my phone, using the diner’s free wifi—god knows I can’t afford a data plan. It’s cheap, and I’m also certain my grandma will give me money for the trip once I get there.
I send Oliver a quick text message, letting him know I’m leaving town for a couple days. I am surprised when an hour later he still has not replied. I wonder if he hired Tara and she’s running around his little café with her low cut v-neck t-shirt.
I’ve packed enough clothes for the weekend, and I make sure to leave out enough food and water for NyQuil. I am thankful that the train station is within walking distance.
I debate whether or not I should call my grandma to let her know to be expecting me, but I decide against it. I called her this morning already and there was no answer, so she’s probably shopping. I haven’t talked to her in a couple weeks—I’ve left her a couple messages but I was never home when she returned my calls, so it’ll be a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.
Chapter Eight
I open my mouth to call your name
The train ride is two and a half hours long. I’ve brought a book to read and a sketchbook to occupy me but I don’t end up using either. I have too much on my mind.
My eyes are heavy and my thoughts drift into the oblivion of the horizon over the fields that seem to go on forever. I sleep all the way through and only awaken in time to hear the announcement that we are ten minutes to our destination.
I step off the train. It feels amazing to be home. Everything looks familiar and inviting. I haven’t been here since the day I left for the city, and I realize now how much I missed it.
The air is crisp and the sun is setting. People are disembarking the train and running towards their families for hugs. Grandma lives about half an hour from the station on foot. In a way, I hope I don’t run into anyone I know, because I don’t want to have to explain anything.
I left without warning, when my ex-husband and I split up. I just needed out. I know he still lives here, and I can’t imagine the rumors he’s started about me. He’s probably made it seem as though the entire breakup was my fault, even though I caught him being unfaithful. I doubt anyone actually knows the truth and I just don’t have the energy to set people straight right now. Nor do I care what anyone thinks of me.
I’m lucky—it seems there’s no one familiar out on the streets tonight, anyway.
During the whole walk to Grandma’s house, I only see two cars on the road and I recognize neither, which is surprising for a town this size.
Her lights are off.
Maybe I should have called.
I wonder if she’s actually sleeping this early; it’s only eight o’clock. I highly doubt she’s actually out anywhere, especially since all the grocery stores closed three hours ago, but her car isn’t in the driveway, either.
Maybe she got rid of the car?
I ring the doorbell. Nothing. A minute later, I knock at the door. Still, nothing. I walk around to the back, hoping to see perhaps the TV on in the living room. I try the door in the back, and it is locked, just like the front.
This is really weird. I guess she must be out.
“Maybe she has a boyfriend,” I mumble, smiling to myself.
I’m exhausted from my long day, so I make the decision to walk to an all-day-breakfast diner down the street, instead of sitting on her front porch waiting for her to come home.
Although doubtful, it would be really unfortunate if she was gone to visit her sister up north for the weekend. Grandma doesn’t like to travel, so I couldn’t see that being likely, but you never know.
At the diner, I slip into a booth, feeling better now that I’m warm. I would love another cup of coffee but I’d also like to be able to fall asleep at some point tonight and it really doesn’t look like they have a second pot for decaf.
“What would you like to order?” the waitress asks. She’s a tall, skinny brunette, wearing heels and a miniskirt. I know she can’t possibly be comfortable—especially with her shirt that tight. I’m thankful I have more cleavage than she does; she’s as flat as a board.
“I’ll have a piece of meringue pie, please,” I reply.
She quietly brings it over and then returns to where she stood behind the counter, texting on her phone.
I slowly pick at my piece of pie, not wanting to finish too quickly.
“Excuse me,” I try to get her attention. “Is there anywhere to go around here right now? I’m waiting for my grandma and I know she must be out somewhere. I just don’t know where she’d be at this time of night. Everything is closed, isn’t it?”
“Everything’s closed as far as I know,” the waitress responds. She barely looks up from her phone when she replies.
I try calling my grandma for the third time tonight and there is still no answer. I wonder whose house she could possibly be at, but I really don’t think she has any friends she would visit this late. We don’t have any other family around here—or anywhere, for that matter.
“Are you from here?” the waitress asks.
“Yes. I mean, I haven’t lived here for several months now, but this is where I am from. My grandma still lives in the big white house on the corner. The one with the black shutters, across from the park.”
“The Blue house? Is your grandmother Laura Blue?”
“Yes. That’s her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Wow. I heard that she passed away a couple months ago.” She finally put her phone down and she is staring right at me.
She didn’t just say that.
“What?” I yell, shocked. I stand up from the booth and walk towards her. “What do you mean? Are you joking? This isn’t a very funny joke.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not joking. I read it in the paper a while back. I’m fairly certain the house is empty now. It was up for sale in August but I think it might have been sold, or just taken off the market. I’m not sure,” she squeaks, almo
st in a whisper.
“That’s impossible; I was still living here in August.”
“Hold on, I think I might still have the paper—I keep them to line my bird cages—” she fumbles through a large box, and digs out the issue from August 14th. She places it down on the counter, open to the obituaries.
Laura Blue. In loving memory. 1946-2013.
What? I don’t understand.
I back away from the table. “This can’t be right. No one told me. They would have had to notify me. I would have gotten a call.”
I don’t even know if the skinny brunette waitress said anything after that. The next thing I know, I’m already out of the diner, making my way back to Grandma’s house. Still, there’s no car in the yard and no lights on inside.
I look through the window and I see nothing. I can’t make out any furniture, but that’s probably just because it’s dark—not because she’s dead.
I grab a brick and break the window beside the door. I reach in and turn the deadbolt.
“Grandma?” I call out. No answer. I flick the switch in an attempt to turn on the lights, but they don’t work. I use the light on my phone to guide me through the hallway, into the living room.
There is no furniture.
This cannot be happening.
Chapter Nine
And then I feel lost;
I missed my exit long ago
There is no one at the counter at the police station. I frantically pace back and forth. Finally, a young dark-haired cop comes out from an office and asks how he can help me.
“Did Laura Blue pass away?” I ask. “I’m her granddaughter. No one told me. I was just over there and her house is empty. I don’t know where else to go.”
