by P. J. Burgy
Lizzie stiffened. “Oh. Why?”
“I don’t feel well.” He shrugged and returned his attention to his game. “My back hurts pretty bad. Woke up with a headache too. It wasn’t feasible to go in tonight. Didn’t want to exacerbate it.”
“Looks kind of bad, calling out that soon, doesn’t it? I mean…” She paused when he grunted. “It’s only until midnight, right?”
“Midnight in the dead of winter when my head hurts and my body is killing me,” he said and shook his head. Suddenly, he jumped, attention on the game. “MOTHER-FUCKER-PIECE-OF-SHIT-ASSHOLE!”
She bristled as he waved his controller wildly.
“I hate this fucking game!” he cried. “Fucking morons!”
“I’m going to get a shower and hit the hay,” Lizzie said, forcing back the warmth threatening to escape her chest. Her head had begun to hurt.
“Oh? No dinner?”
“You didn’t eat?”
“I was waiting for you. Could order pizza.” He signed out of his game, the screen reverting to his character, a busty woman in skimpy armor, posing and flexing with her massive sword. “I think I’m done with this bullshit for today anyway. I really need to eat. My blood sugar is crashing.”
“I have leftover Chinese in the fridge.”
“I don’t want that. I want pizza.”
“We should probably watch the finances a bit closer, don’t you think? We’ve eaten out a lot this month, and-”
He sighed loudly, theatrically, and dropped his controller on the coffee table next to his three empty soda bottles. “Do you know what I did today while you were standing around at the bookstore? Hmm?”
“No?”
“I vacuumed the entire house, Lizzie. With my bad back and my headache. I almost threw up — it was so strenuous. But I wanted you to come home to a clean house. Is it too much to ask that you pull your weight too?” Tommy rolled to the side to face her. He’d gotten pudgier over the last year, though he wasn’t what one would consider fat. He’d simply ‘let himself go’, as they say, but he was still handsome – albeit in a softer, less rugged way. A grimace pulled at his lips.
“I did, I-”
“You spent a little time with a rag in the kitchen. Whoop-de-doo. I wish you’d appreciate me a little more. I have hypoglycemia, you know. I could pass out at any moment if I don’t eat regularly. I wore myself out today. It’d be nice to be doted on like I dote on you. I’m just asking for some pizza, Lizzie, not a dinner date to The Blue Room on Fifth Street. Come on.”
“Did you have some cash?”
“You know I don’t. The electric bill was high last month.”
Lizzie hesitated and nodded. “Fine. I can cover. I’ll call in an order if you’ll go with to pick it up.”
He shrunk slightly. “Could you get it? It’s really cold out, and my headache…”
“Okay.” She took her cellphone from her purse. No new calls or messages at all. A quick search brought up the number to Vincentelli’s down the street.
He ate more than half of the pizza himself and went right back to gaming. Lizzie took a shower upstairs in the hall bathroom, staring at the water as it pooled around her bare feet. She watched the funnel churn around the drain.
She had three faded tattoos. Roses on a thorny vine along her ankle and calf. A star on her chest, above her left breast. A random black heart on her shoulder. The facial piercings had come out over a year ago, the tiny holes still visible on her nose and lip. She never wore her earrings anymore.
Steam misted on the glass door. Her long, auburn hair clung wetly to her body as she stood under the showerhead, enjoying the heat. Moisture beaded on her cheeks, mixing with her tears, and she cried quietly for a little before turning off the spigot.
Two towels were ready, and she wrapped one around her head and the other around her body. She dried off and got changed for bed.
She’d been dozing when he crawled into bed with her and attempted to initiate sex. Lizzie pretended to be sound asleep until he gave up and curled up on his side. His loud snoring followed soon after.
Chapter 2
Despite Thursday being one of her days off, Lizzie had an alarm set for 6 AM. She turned it off, fumbling briefly at her phone and unplugging it. Tommy slept deeply and soundly, snoring away in the bed next to her, covered in the entire sheet while she had woken up completely exposed and shivering. It was a nightly occurrence.
She got dressed; sweatpants and a hefty hoodie worked best for chilly mornings. Grabbing her earphones, she plugged in her phone, got her music loaded up, and left the house to go for a jog around the neighborhood.
Checking for her keys first, she locked the front door and tried the knob several times. She patted herself down for her phone and wallet – just in case. Only after that could she begin her routine.
It had snowed a little the previous night, but it hadn’t really stuck. The sidewalks were fine even if the lawns were dusted. She jogged along, feeling the frosty air in her lungs, and enjoyed the quiet darkness of early morning December. The streetlights glowed warmly, the sun an hour away from peeking over the horizon. It was pleasant.
It was on her way back that social dread crept into her heart. She turned the corner and frowned. One of the neighbors on the street had come out to walk his dogs, and he blocked her way on the sidewalk coming up in thirty feet.
Gary was middle-aged, tall, and pasty. He lived alone in his unusually well-kept house down the street. Well, he lived alone save for his three loud, constantly yipping dachshunds. Lizzie hadn’t bothered to learn their names. He didn’t leash the things and they came barreling toward her awkwardly, barking like crazy.
“Uh oh! Looks like they want to say ‘hello!’ Gary exclaimed eagerly, smiling as his tiny hounds advanced on her. He adjusted his thick glasses. “Good morning, Lizzie!”
Lizzie forced a smile and slowed to a stop so his dogs could bash into her, bark at her, and bite at the legs of her sweatpants. They were relentless and wouldn’t stop yapping and whining. She lowered her earphones and let them hang around her neck. “Good morning, Gary.”
Gary shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark gray fleece hoodie and strode over, grinning widely. He was clearly excited for human interaction. “Morning jog, just like clockwork! You’re so dedicated!”
Lizzie tried to avoid tripping over the circle of tiny dogs. “Ah, yeah. I try to keep to my schedule.” It took raising her voice to be heard over the shrill barking.
“How’s the bookstore?”
“Oh, it’s good.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot in an attempt to project her desire to leave. Her smile wavered. “And… you? The flower shop?”
“Kind of slow. Always slow.” He shook his head. “I expect it around here. Maybe we’ll get a Christmas rush, right?”
“Sure.”
“Never know. Someone just moved into town. Might be a new customer. Here’s hoping.”
She sniffed. “Someone moved into Puhtipstie?” Regret scrunched her face. Continuing their conversation hadn’t been her intent, but it was too late.
“Oh yeah. Someone bought the old Hildemann place.”
“One of the big houses on Main Street?”
“Yep!”
“Well, that’s good.”
“Big house. A mansion. I used to do arrangements for the Hildemanns, you know. Years ago. Nice people. Kind of stuffy, but really nice. Not a cheap property, even if it was empty for years. It’s got about five bedrooms and-”
Lizzie raised a hand. “Ah, hey, I’m sorry, Gary, but I’m getting sort of cold.”
“You want to come in for some coffee?”
“No, ah, I have some things to do today. It was nice catching up though.” Lizzie smiled anxiously.
“Oh, yes, absolutely,” he said, nodding. “It’s a bit cold out, isn’t it? Funny, we haven’t had much snow at all. Just a little sprinkle last night and maybe an inch a few weeks ago. Strange winter, this. But you know what they say
, don’t you? We’ll probably get hit big before the end of the month. A big one. Maybe a few feet, who knows? Why, five years ago, it was a dead winter until in January, maybe the third, the sky just opened up and-”
“Have a good day, Gary.” She scooted around his dogs, one of them holding fast to her pant leg with its tiny teeth. After shaking her foot, it released her and began yipping again. Then, she went jogging by him.
“Have a good day, Lizzie!” He waved at her, his little dogs yapping and starting to chase her until he whistled for them to return to his side.
She took a shower when she got home and made some coffee. Breakfast was a cream cheese slathered bagel. Getting changed into her ‘lazy clothes’ – her fleece pants and a loose tee-shirt – Lizzie had a seat downstairs in front of her laptop and opened it up.
Chewing on her food, she eyed up what she’d written the previous day. She lingered on a few paragraphs into the second chapter and stared at the last few lines of dialogue she’d written before Tommy had pulled her away from it.
She had a few hours yet before he rolled out of bed and already felt sick imagining their conversation about whether he’d go to work tonight.
A pile of opened envelopes lay on her writing desk. Bills. Payments. Electric. Internet. They were all in her name and some would be late this month. Her dwindling savings had only gotten them so far. Tommy had nothing; even when he worked, he spent his money as soon as he received it. The entire gaming system was proof of that. He didn’t chip in toward bills.
He paid his part by ‘doing chores’. In fact, he’d demanded being paid for mowing their lawn over the summer. Her chest hurt as she remembered it.
It was hard to get into a creative headspace when worry and doubt kept sneaking in. She fidgeted, wringing her hands, and stared at the laptop screen.
Thomas Kramer had always been that way, hadn’t he? When they’d met in school – they’d attended the same university near Pittsburgh – he’d been charming but lazy. They’d started dating and stayed together even after he dropped out and moved back home. His parents lived close to the school – his mother refused to let her precious only child stray too far from her loving arms – and Lizzie was able to continue seeing him easily.
He’d nearly cost her a graduation of her own. He felt she’d spent too much time with her schoolwork and not enough with him. That’s why he’d cheated, right? He told her. She hadn’t been there for him.
It wasn’t really cheating though, was it? They’d just been talking, he and that other woman… Still, Lizzie had tried her best to make time for him and she’d gone on little sleep for weeks to earn him back.
After school, she’d gotten a job as an assistant at Samos-Barnes and rented a place outside of the city. Her parents were thrilled. Tommy was pleased as well, as his parents had turned on him and were asking for money. He moved in with Lizzie, assuring her he’d take care of the place if she paid the bills. It was only fair. He broke his back taking care of his loved ones and all he asked for was that they helped a little financially. He had a job at the time too. A gig at the local game store. The problem was that he spent his entire paycheck there before coming home.
Her parents weren’t pleased to hear she’d moved Tommy in. They offered to let her move back into her old room in their house in Puhtipstie if she was struggling so badly. She politely declined, worrying over Tommy’s welfare more than her own.
After living with Tommy in Pittsburgh for almost seven years, having good days and bad days – mostly bad days – she received the call that changed everything.
Her parents had both died in a car accident.
Grief stricken, she’d been unsure of what to do for days while insurance companies blew up her phone. Tommy had asked about any money that might come in, of course. She had the mortgage to their house transferred to herself. They’d taken out a second loan on it and it wasn’t going to be easy to sell it at a profit.
So, she did something crazy.
She moved back to Puhtipstie.
Tommy had been furious at first. All of his friends lived in Pittsburgh. His family was there. However, after a fight on the phone with his father, he was more than happy to agree to relocating. Suddenly, he hated Pittsburgh.
Even at the time, she’d been disappointed to hear he’d changed his mind and wanted to join her. They’d been discussing breaking up and though she wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, she’d been hoping he’d cut ties and let her go. Lizzie couldn’t explain, even then, why she felt that way. It seemed obvious now.
He’d only half-heartedly supported her writing. Even in their new house, in their new lives in a new place. A year after moving. A year of trying to work together.
If her book interrupted his plans, he hated it and grew vocal about it. If she wouldn’t close her laptop the moment he woke up, he threw a fit. If she were painting in the basement – the smell of the paint gave him a headache, so she needed to be banished to the damp, chilly dungeon downstairs – and didn’t reply to a text inquiring about food or attention, he sulked and slammed doors loudly.
Lizzie stared at the screen and blinked. She hated him.
So why then did she allow it to continue and fester?
No answer. She waited, breathing shallow.
Sitting poised with her fingers above the keyboard, she licked her lips and considered their many years together. Sending him packing back to his parents wasn’t an option; they wouldn’t have him. He couldn’t hold a job and couldn’t afford his own place. He’d die out there, starving on the streets and blaming her.
That’s what she imagined.
He’d take his last, raspy breath and stare at the sky with his vacant blue eyes growing foggy. And he’d die. He’d curse her name, the sound barely audible as he wheezed and went limp on the sidewalk, an overturned trashcan next to him and garbage spilled across his wizened body.
She clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly. Maybe that fate would suit him.
Sipping her coffee, she sighed and leaned back into the office chair, rereading what she’d already written again for the tenth time. She remembered what she’d wanted to do with the dialogue and began to type away.
The main character wanted to put their second-in-command in their place. He was being an asshole and needed a firm hand. Lizzie would kill him off later. Not yet. She had to show her readers what a jerk he was first. Subtlety was a fine art and when she was mad, she painted with a wide brush. His dialogue was too ham handed. She’d fix it in editing, as she always did.
Tommy woke up, used the bathroom, and stomped down the stairs around noon. Grabbing a bag of chips and a soda from the kitchen, he took a seat on the futon and signed into his game right away, munching and slurping as the battle music blared from the living room.
Lizzie had written a few pages by then and felt accomplished. She didn’t want to leave the little room yet even if he was invested in his game.
Her phone pinged and she checked it warily, worrying if he’d sent a message asking for something. It wasn’t Tommy. Margo had texted her.
Tomorrow night, around three, she needed help getting the second floor ready. There would be food on the tables, and she had asked about wine or bottled water. Why not both? What sort of food? Cheese and crackers? Meat cuts? Small things and some tongs? Paper plates? No. Those are cheap looking. Maybe some dishware. What about cups? Sodas? A cooler? Napkins?
Lizzie replied back that she’d help with whatever needed to be picked up. Not that she could really afford it…
Margo reassured her that one sale would cover everything Lizzie needed to purchase for the event. One sale. Yeah. Sell a painting. She hadn’t even set prices.
Tommy cursed loudly from the living room.
Tommy did go to work that night. Lizzie was pleasantly surprised when she saw him showered, shaved, and dressed, his little blue nametag fastened to his shirt breast. He was ready to go at the door with his little lunchbox. He took the car keys an
d left, his expression one of annoyance. It was snowing again outside, maybe an inch accumulating, and he harped on that fact multiple times before leaving the house.
“If I crash the car, slide on the ice…”
“Not much laying. It’ll be fine. And Bill’s store is only ten minutes down the road.”
“Potholes will wreck the alignment if I slip into one.”
“Just be safe.”
They kissed goodbye and he left. Lizzie locked the door after he’d stalked away. He never locked the door.
He got in a little after midnight and woke her up for lovemaking. She complied, not wanting to be frigid every time he came pawing at the door. It was mercifully quick, and he rolled over to sleep not long after.
Chapter 3
Usually, Lizzie worked at the bookstore on Fridays – four to eight. But, this Friday, Kate was closing early. Lizzie woke up at 6 AM, went for her jog – she took a different way around the neighborhood to avoid Gary – and hopped in the shower as soon as she returned home.
She gathered her paintings, ten of them, in the living room and searched for boxes in their storage closet. There was a stop at the grocery store ahead of her. And at the pharmacy. She had written a list and checked it.
Her brows furrowed. She’d need to dress up nice, wouldn’t she? Did she have any nice clothes? There was a thrift store nearby. She could check that out beforehand for sure. She had planned on meeting Margo at the frame shop around two in the afternoon and it was only nine now.
She did her running around and found a nice black dress at the thrift store. It came to her knees. She’d need nylons. They had them there too. Shoes? Same store. She spent less than twenty bucks for an entire outfit.
The back of her little Honda had been packed with boxes of stuff for the event. Tablecloths. Plastic utensils – Margo said she’d bring the plates and cups. A cooler. Canned sodas from the grocery store – name brand too! Margo had mentioned wine, but Lizzie didn’t know one name from another on those bottles. Not that it mattered. Who would be there to care if she had no taste?
