3. Vinnie
3
VINNIE
Having to attend a week’s worth of training across the country for work always sucked. Thankfully, it was only once a year. And sure, the knowledge was useful, but it took me a full week to recoup.
Being away meant that I didn’t have my own bed, I didn’t have my own toys, and I didn’t even have my milk. And because the company was trying to save money, I didn’t even have my own room this year, meaning no comfy jammies for me. And even though I brought my favorite stuffie, a tiger with a backpack on, it had to stay in my suitcase. The trip was flipping miserable. But at least I was back now.
My rideshare from the airport pulled up in front of my building, letting me out so that I stepped right into a big puddle. My foot was soaking wet. At least I was home. All I had to do was go upstairs, take a shower, put on some Little clothes, and climb into bed with a bottle of milk and life would be good again.
I didn’t think I was asking too much. My stupid bad luck did.
After waiting far too long for the elevator, I was finally home. I walked into the door to find it dark. Not the normal “there were no lights on” dark, but “I couldn’t see” dark.
I flipped the light switch—nothing.
I used my phone’s flashlight to go into the living room—nothing worked.
I went into the kitchen—even the microwave clock was off.
Fuck. Fuck.
It wasn’t a power outage. If it was, the lights in the hallway would’ve been off. No, it was just my apartment, and since electricity was included, it had nothing to do with the electric company. Nope. It was an internal issue.
Double fuck.
One nice thing about this place was that we had our own circuit breakers. We didn’t need to call maintenance to deal with that. But when I reached the box and saw that not one, but all of them had tripped, I kind of wished they had been there. It wasn’t normal to have them all trip like that, and I wasn’t even sure what made it happen or if it was safe to put them back on.
Unsure what to do, I left them as is and called the maintenance department to have them figure it out after all. The last thing I wanted to do was turn them all on and start a fire.
I really needed my bottle, then bed.
“The milk.” I ran to the kitchen, realizing for the first time during all of this that no electricity meant that my fridge would be off too.
“Please let it have happened only a few minutes ago.”
I started by opening the fridge. It would be the first to lose temperature, and I wanted to keep the freezer section sealed as long as possible to prevent the rest of my milk stash from thawing out.
It would’ve been a great plan if the fridge was still close to temperature. Only it wasn’t. The stupid thing was warm. Nothing in there would be salvageable, with the exception of my steak sauce.
“Crap.”
My milk—it was in the freezer. It still had a chance. Maybe the temperature would be cool enough there thanks to the space being pretty full. I crossed my fingers, only to open it and see the worst-case scenario in front of my eyes.
The ice cubes were puddles in the trays. The milk—thawed, and not even cool to the touch.
It was times like these I really needed a Daddy.
I slammed it shut, willing myself not to cry. It was only milk and not even the entire month’s worth. It could be replaced. Sure, I wanted it for tonight because my week had been so rough, but I could handle this. Really, I could.
After a few cleansing breaths, I pulled out my phone to leave a message with maintenance, to order something to eat, and check the app to see if anybody had any spare milk for sale. I doubted it. Most people had waitlists for their supplies. But I was going to try anyway.
Unlike moms who needed their milk for babies, men who sold to adults could still have a beer and not ruin a pumping session. I’d seen a few who sold their “pump and dump” last minute. It wasn’t ideal, but what about this situation was?
After a week, I was going to need some, and if it had some alcohol in it, that was fine. It would taste different, but it always did, even within the same bulk batch. It all depended on what that person ate and drank that day. There were even people on the app who ate the same thing daily and listed that menu for prospective customers to see.
Did I have the extra money to do this? No, but if having milk meant later on in the month I’d have to skimp on bottle size or live on insta-noodles, so be it.
I tapped away at the app and found someone who said they had milk available immediately—cash only. They cited an unexpected cancellation. I really didn’t care why.
Please let them mean now.
A opened up the contact page and a couple messages later, we had a deal and they sent me their address. I was racing out of the building, not even waiting for the elevator, bounding down the stairs and driving over to the other side of town for my liquid gold.
It was an older house, and the man had the door open as I walked up the steps.
“I got what you need,” he said, holding a mason jar of milk. “I just pumped, so this is all there is.”
It was plenty. And without a fridge, it wasn’t like I could store any that was extra.
I took out my wallet and handed him the cash, and he thanked me. When someone in the back called him to dinner, I thanked him again and headed back to my place.
After a quick stop at the convenience store for a bag of ice to keep my leftovers cool, I was home. Not wanting to break my jar, I didn’t chance the stairs, instead taking the elevator despite the wait.
Little me was so excited—I’d be able to shower, have my milk, go to sleep. Forget dinner. Forget the fridge. Forget it being dark. That could all be dealt with in the morning,
But the milk—that I wasn’t waiting on.
Only, as I raced to get back to my apartment, the bag of ice kept slipping in my hand, causing me to get distracted, and I tripped on the corner of someone’s doormat, falling to the ground.
The jar of milk flew out of my hands, crashing onto the ground and breaking into a thousand pieces, and my body landed on the ice. Ouch .
And because it was the kind of day it was, there was no thinking reasonably about it. None. Instead, I started to cry.
And not a little cry, either. All my Big feelings were coming out as I sobbed, picking up the glass shards so that no one would get hurt, as the ice started to melt on the carpet.
And if I couldn’t make matters any worse, who should walk by but my neighbor.
And not the little old lady one.
No.
It was my sexy next-door neighbor, seeing me cry over spilled milk.
“Hey, need some help?” Why did he have to see me? If he’d been five minutes later, I might’ve been cleaned up.
I shook my head, wanting the walls to suck me inside whoever’s apartment I was in front of.
*Is that raw milk?”
I just shook my head, trying to hold in my tears, which was only making them flow harder.
“That’s… oh?—”
And suddenly, he was squatting down beside me.
And I’d never wanted more to wake up and find out this was all a dream and I hadn’t embarrassed myself in front of my crush.
Or maybe I wanted it to continue and have him offer to be my Daddy. Yeah, that was the better option. Too bad it wasn’t a dream.