Chapter 13
“Lila, come home,” Lila’s grandmother urges through the phone, her voice thick with exasperation. “Last week you couldn’t call because you were sick, and now today you’re saying you just forgot. Do you really think I don’t know what’s going on? I know everything!”
Lila rolls her eyes and pulls the phone away from her ear, exhaling in frustration.
Her grandmother’s voice grates on her more than usual.
As the tirade continues, Lila shifts her focus to the small kitchen around her.
Her eyes drift from the pipes running along the ceiling, to the exposed brick walls, to the dried droplets of oil on the counter, and finally to the sink full of dirty plates.
Fucking Claire.
She’s just returned to her apartment after breakfast with Max.
It took a while to charge her phone’s completely depleted battery, and when she finally turned it on, she found twelve missed calls and a flood of texts from her grandmother.
Lila admitted, without thinking, that she’d forgotten her promise to check in every Saturday morning.
However, she was careful not to mention that she’d been far too preoccupied with a certain someone to remember.
“And what is it exactly that you think has been going on, Nana?” Lila sighs.
“So much attitude,” her grandmother says disapprovingly. “Just like your mother.”
Something inside Lila snaps. The comparison lands like a deliberate jab, striking a nerve and igniting a sharp, defensive heat in her chest.
“Wow. Really? That can’t be further from the truth, and you know it.”
“I tried so hard to raise you right, but I see now that you’re just as ungrateful,” her grandmother continues, as if Lila hasn’t said a word.
Her words are a familiar refrain, echoed countless times since Lila moved in with her over a decade ago. As always, when things don’t go her grandmother’s way, she pulls out the comparison to Lila’s mother as the final punching blow that’s meant to win the argument.
Lila knows she should be used to it by now, but somehow, it still stings. Her grandmother has never hidden that she sees Lila as a do-over, a second chance to get things done her way—and Lila has clearly fallen short of her expectations.
“Sorry to hear that. Third time’s the charm, though, Nana. Don’t give up hope yet.”
Her grandmother takes a moment to process what Lila just said.
“LILA!”
“Gotta go!”
“LILA, YOU BETTER NOT GET YOURSELF PREGNANT!”
“Life’s full of surprises… I need to do my laundry. Bye-bye now!”
“Why do you need to do your laundry so much? What have you been doing?” her grandmother instantly demands.
Lila scoffs, bewildered by the sudden, bizarre accusation.
“Uh, it’s a totally normal, once-a-week-to-week-and-a-half thing. I thought you said you know everything,” she replies dryly. She wants to tell her grandmother not to be so paranoid, but swallows the words instead.
“Don’t talk back to me!”
Anticipating the second act of her grandmother’s tirade, Lila quickly interjects, “Hey, listen. I’ll send you a picture of my incredibly dull pile of dirty laundry if I have to, but this conversation isn’t going anywhere.
Let’s try again next week.” She hastily says her goodbyes and hangs up before her grandmother can speak again.
Fortunately, her grandmother doesn’t try to call back.
She imagines her grandmother bursting in at this very moment if not for the fact that she’s thousands of miles away.
In some ways, Lila can understand how, in her grandmother’s eyes, her recent actions might mirror her mother’s rash decision to leave home decades ago without a word.
But Lila likes to believe there’s a stark difference between her carefully planned move to New York and her mother’s impulsive escape at seventeen.
At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself.
I left her a note, at least.
From a young age, after hearing all the town’s gossip about her mother’s wild behavior, Lila vowed to carve out a different path for herself.
That means no unplanned pregnancies, no fleeting romances, and absolutely no succumbing to the lure of alcohol. She promised herself she would only fall for The One, and that they would live happily ever after.
So she studied hard in high school and college, graduating at the top of her class. She brought home countless awards for her art and made it through most of college before finally dating the most amazing guy she’d ever laid eyes on.
Still, when she returned to her hometown, it finally hit her that she would never truly escape their unspoken judgment.
These people had drafted her story long ago.
From the very first day she moved in with her grandmother, no matter what she did, Lila always sensed that her grandmother and the rest of the town refused to see her as her own person.
They looked at her as if waiting for the inevitable: that one day she’d slip up, and all her years of hard work—and her grandmother’s financial sacrifice for private schooling—would go to absolute waste.
Just like her mother.
Somehow, she feels worse now than she did with Max this morning.
Wanting to push away the negative thoughts swirling in her head, Lila checks her notifications now that her phone is halfway charged.
She notices no other calls or texts from Claire, except one saying she wouldn’t be coming home, along with a plea to wash the dishes for her.
“Thanks, roomie. I owe you one!” the message ended, already assuming Lila would do it.
A good friend, Lila thinks, would have wondered where I disappeared to during the party.
Bitterness sinks in as she realizes her absence doesn’t seem to matter much to Claire. The thought somehow stings more than her grandmother’s words. She wonders if their friendship has been one-sided all along.
After scrolling through her phone as it finishes charging, she gets up from the breakfast nook, tosses the charging cable into the kitchen garbage bin along with the dirty plates, and heads to her room.
She decides she will no longer bend over backwards to get along with Claire. No more favors. No more picking up extra chores. And definitely no more talking to the sleazy landlord. Since, apparently, they’re just “roomies.”
Slamming the door shut behind her, Lila leans against it and huffs, taking in the sight of her small bedroom. She’s completely exhausted, but seeing the familiar surroundings of her cozy sanctuary energizes her a little.
It’s nothing like the lofty space she woke up in this morning.
In this humble, warm room, filled with imperfections and echoes of simple past lives, she finds a sense of comfort and belonging that the grandeur of Max’s penthouse—too perfect and impersonal—could never provide.
The walls, once painted a soft cream, now show the marks of time, with uneven patches and fine cracks creeping along the edges.
Near her full-sized bed sits a weathered wooden desk, its surface scarred by water damage accumulated over the years from previous tenants, the stains lingering as reminders of neglect left behind by forgotten coasters.
A wry smile tugs at her lips as she recalls Max lifting a glass to slip a coaster beneath it.
On the other side of her bed is a large loft-style window adorned with thin curtains that barely filter the light and noise from outside. The fabric sways gently in the breeze, casting fleeting shadows that move across the worn carpet below.
She opens the window wider to let in a stronger breeze, watching pigeons play on the zigzagging fire escape and enjoying the crisp autumn air before finally making her way to bed.
Exhaustion weighs heavily on her, every muscle screaming for relief and urging her toward the familiar warmth and coziness of her old comforter.
Gingerly, she peels off Max’s hoodie, her body protesting with each movement.
“Ugh, fuck.”
Her grandmother would lose her mind if she ever found out Lila had begun undressing in front of an open window. She isn’t afraid of curious eyes; the only thing facing her window is a windowless brick wall, drowned in graffiti.
Still, despite knowing no one can see her, a thrill curls through her. Undressing here, high above the street, feels like a tiny middle finger to all the strict rules her grandmother had set for her.
In the anonymity of urban life, surrounded by the constant movement of strangers, she finds a strange freedom in shedding the constraints of modesty. She is simply one among many. Unnoticed. Unjudged.
She slips out of Claire’s dress, letting it fall to the floor, and exhales softly. The cool air drifts in and brushes against her bare skin without judgment.
After pulling on an old college T-shirt and her favorite black leggings, she picks up Max’s hoodie and holds it against her chest. The smooth fabric feels impossibly soft in her hands. She lifts it slowly to her nose and inhales its scent.
It smells like him.
Memories of him flood through her like a relentless tide as she continues to breathe it in.
He is a scary, turbulent force. Unpredictable. Powerful. Capable of sweeping her off her feet with little warning. And despite knowing his rough edges and selfish tendencies, she can’t help feeling drawn to him—the night before, and again at breakfast.
What is wrong with me?
His brusque, greedy touch ignited something peculiar within her. Not warmth, not softness…but an exhilarating, urgent heat. In his presence, the unwanted butterflies in her stomach come alive, fluttering erratically, desperate to escape the storms he brings.
She shakes her head, feeling disgusted with herself.
With a heavy sigh, she drops onto the bed, hoping a short nap might offer some escape from the relentless thoughts of Max consuming her mind.
Her vision blurs as sleep takes hold. The last thing on her mind is the hoodie beside her, its scent still pleasantly lingering in the air.
If he happens to miss it, then it’s too damn bad—because she will never, ever see him again.
A few hours later, Lila stirs, gradually surfacing from a deep slumber.
“Holy shit. What time is it?”
The warm sun had long since set. Her room is now swallowed in darkness, lit only by the distant glow of streetlights filtering through the window. The temperature outside has dropped sharply, and she shivers as a strong gust of wind slips in.
Am I late for work? she wonders, disoriented.
It is evident in the way she slept and in the deep ache running through her body that being with Max for less than a day has truly worn her out. She can’t help feeling sorry for all the women in his life—past, present, future. All of them.
Max carries a whirlwind of devastating energy wherever he goes, leaving a trail of emotional exhaustion in his wake.
She thinks back to this morning, to the way he had acted as if he were genuinely interested in taking her on a date.
She wonders how many idiots have been swept up in his charm, only to find themselves drained and disillusioned in the end.
At least he had shown her his true colors before this sweet act.
She lies in bed, feeling groggy and annoyed at the thought of him, when a couple of knocks on her door startle her out of her thoughts.
“Lila, babe, have you seen my charging cord anywhere?” Claire’s head pokes in from behind the door, the hallway light momentarily blinding Lila.
“Fuck!” Lila gasps, clutching her comforter to her chest.
“Whoa! Girly, chill. It’s just me,” Claire says, taking a step back from the doorway.
“What’s up? You’ve been on edge lately,” Claire continues, furrowing her brows as she tightens the towel wrapped around her damp hair.
Lila shakes her head, a pang of guilt creeping in for what she had done as she realizes Claire really has noticed her unease these past couple of weeks.
“It’s nothing,” Lila says with a small smile. “I was just waking up from a nap, and, uh, you startled me. That’s all. Haha.” She pauses before adding, “And no, I haven’t seen it.”
It’s a tiny, harmless lie meant to cover up a tiny, impulsive mistake from earlier. Things can be replaced, but good friends are hard to come by.
“Strange… I’m pretty sure I left it on the kitchen counter the last time I used it,” Claire grumbles, frustrated as she pulls off the towel, revealing her naturally wavy hair. “If you see it around, can you put it in my room?”
“Of course, roomie,” Lila chirps, her smile widening. “Do you want to use mine?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” her roommate replies with a relieved smile.
“I’ll make sure to return it before I head out for my shift.
And thanks for clearing the sink! And can you pretty, pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top help me with the trash, too?
Sorry, sorry! I know I’m such a bad roommate.
I’ll do better. I promise! It’s just Tony’s been up my ass and stressing me the fuck out. ”
Lila nods. “Yeah, no prob. You can grab my charger from my desk. And hey, can you leave the door open on your way out? I’ll be up in a minute.”