Chapter 1
Grief has a way of entering your psyche at the strangest times.
Something as simple as a song playing on the radio could trigger a tightness in your chest and tears at the brim of your lids threatening to fall.
Cyren woke up this morning, feeling okay, and as the day progressed, that feeling dimmed.
And now, as the clock slowly ticked for her to clock out, a sadness crept in that she couldn’t shake.
All she wanted now was for her shift to end so she could hurry home.
Glancing at the clock, Cyren sighed and grabbed her phone. The last twenty minutes of the day always seemed to drag. Opening her texts, she tapped on the unread message from her best friend, Gabi.
“Of course, she sends a voice note.” She snickered before playing the message.
“Oh, my gosh. Listen, I know you’re still at work but let me tell you about my day. I’m glad you have your own office so you can listen to me ramble in peace. Ugh, I had the most stressful—”
Unfortunately, the message only lasted twelve seconds, thanks to someone calling Gabi’s phone.
Cyren was sure that when she could send her another message, she’d mention that whoever called had added to her stress.
Interruptions seemed to be on the agenda today, as one of Cyren’s coworkers knocked on her door.
“Come in.”
“Hey, hey,” Bre sang, smiling.
Cyren mustered up the best smile she could. “Hey, girl. You’re real jovial.”
Bre chuckled. “Jovial? Really?”
“What?” Cyren shrugged. “You seem like you’re in a good mood.”
Laughing, Bre stepped further into her office. “I am. We’re about to get off. I’m always happy about clocking out.”
“True. I feel you.”
Working at 2nd Community Credit Union wasn’t Cyren’s dream job.
Truthfully, at this moment in her life, she didn’t know what was.
But it got her out of the house and, for the most part, out of her head.
As a loan officer, she helped the borrower understand loan terms, processed payments, handled consultations, discussed financial goals, and performed a plethora of duties that seemed to align with her degree in business administration.
Bre was a teller, so Cyren could only imagine how long her day had been.
“You should come out with us tonight,” Bre suggested.
This wasn’t the first time Bre had invited her out.
She’d been working at the credit union for six months and had accepted three out of at least seven invites.
The gesture was nice, and Cyren genuinely liked Bre and her group of friends, even though they were a few years younger than her.
They brought a lightness to her life that’d gone missing a while ago.
If this were another day, she’d consider stepping out. Today wasn’t one of those days, though. She wasn’t in the mood to socialize or be a Debby Downer.
“I think I’ma sit this one out,” Cyren said, offering a small smile to soften her decline.
Bre’s face dropped just a little, but not in a way that she wanted Cyren to feel bad. It was more of a look, stating she was used to hearing that answer, but still held out hope that it might change one day.
“Girl, you always say that,” she replied, folding her arms. “You don’t have anything to do.”
Cyren leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I don’t. But I just don’t want to go out.”
Bre studied her for a second. “You okay?”
Cyren let her question linger for a second and nodded even though she was far from it. “Yeah. Just tired.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
What was okay when you were grieving the loss of a parent?
Cyren didn’t have that answer, nor did she have the guts to tell her coworker the truth about how she was feeling, who knew she was lying. Maybe another day and time.
Bre didn’t push any further, sensing her discomfort. “Well, make sure you get some rest tonight. You’re off tomorrow, right?”
Cyren nodded. “Yeah.”
“Even better. And it’s Friday. You get to sleep in.” Bre smiled. “If you change your mind, we’re going to Society around eight. You know where that is?”
“Yeah, I know where it is.”
“Good. So, you don’t have any excuse just in case you need directions,” Bre said, playfully pointing at her before turning toward the door.
Cyren shook her head, a quiet laugh slipping out. “I’m pretty sure I can still come up with one.”
“Mhm. I’m sure you can,” Bre shot back, grabbing the door handle before pausing. “Oh! And don’t stay here too long, finishing up stuff that can wait until next week. It’ll still be here.”
Being the overachiever she was, Cyren normally stayed later than what was required of her. Her coworkers and supervisor were used to her leaving after hours because she had one more little thing to wrap up.
Bre gave her one last teasing look before stepping out of the office.
She pulled the door closed behind her, and the clicking of it shutting was almost deafening.
Cyren’s senses were heightened. They always were around this time of the year.
The sound lingered in her head longer than it should’ve, echoing with reminders she couldn’t quite outrun.
It awakened her thoughts of endings, of absence, of how quickly something or someone could be here one moment and gone the next. It was a sickening reality, and she was living it.
Cyren swallowed, blinking past her thoughts before they could settle any deeper.
She wouldn’t allow that here. Not in public.
Her gaze drifted around her office before landing on a stack of files she needed to organize.
She reached for it but stopped midway. Throwing herself into work was safe.
She could avoid the hard things and conversations inside these four walls.
For once, she chose not to give in to the habit of staying late just to avoid going home.
Powering down her desktop, Cyren stood from her chair, grabbed her work tote bag along with her purse, and headed out the door.
Returning a wave to Bre, who was pulling out of the lot, she almost considered going out.
Being around other people, drinking, and listening to music didn’t sound that bad. Those people may have been chasing or searching for something, too. She could use the distraction.
“Maybe I’ll go out tomorrow,” Cyren mumbled, as her shoulders dropped and she climbed inside her car.
She couldn’t say she’d rather been at home over another place, but it was where she could hide. At least for now. Cyren started her car and pulled out of the lot, already knowing Society or any other lounge wouldn’t be seeing her tonight.
The five-bedroom, four-and-a-half-bathroom home was somewhat quiet as Cyren used her key to open and enter the front door.
It’d been that way since she moved in with her aunt, Nia, and cousin, Skylar, seven months ago.
Silence seemed to be a natural greeting, and each day, it felt heavier than the last.
She stood in the foyer, listening for the sound of her cousin and what she was doing.
Skylar’s voice carried into the entryway, animated in a way that made Cyren loudly exhale.
From the sounds of it, Skylar was either recording a video or live-streaming.
Either way, Cyren wasn’t in the mood to hear her yapping for hours on end.
“I need to get my own place,” Cyren mumbled.
With the home’s design, she was able to escape to her bedroom for a few minutes without being noticed. Slipping her shoes off, she placed them inside the closet and tossed her bag and purse in the lounge chair near the dresser. Her room was simple.
It wasn’t unfinished, just untouched in a way that gave it the spark she’d normally add. It was difficult adding a spark to something when she didn’t have any to give.
A queen-sized bed sat centered against the wall, neatly made with neutral bedding that was the complete opposite of the vibrant colors she would’ve picked.
There were no extra pillows or layered throws.
It was made up just enough to be comfortable without feeling like she’d settled in.
Across from it, a mounted fifty-five-inch TV hung on the wall and was probably the most used thing inside her room.
A couple of plants sat near the window. Their greenery was the only thing breaking up the stillness of the space. They were alive and growing; a small reminder of something she could keep up with. Off to the side, a lounge chair rested in the corner, angled just perfectly for her to watch TV.
No pictures hung on the walls. No personal touches gave a hint to her personality, or what it used to be.
Cyren had only added what she needed to function, not what she needed to feel at home.
It was easier that way. Easier to move around the space without getting attached to it.
It’d be easier to leave if it ever came down to it, and whether she admitted it or not, that was always in the back of her mind.
Grabbing her phone, Cyren slipped on her house shoes and grabbed her lunch bag so she could wash the Tupperware inside.
Begrudgingly, she walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
The glow from Skylar’s portable ring light illuminated the kitchen even more, while a video played out loud on her phone screen.
“And I’m telling you, if you blend it like this, you’re going to have a flawless beat every single time.”
Cyren didn’t know the woman speaking, but she knew it had to be a popular makeup artist or influencer.
According to Skylar, she only watched and associated herself with the best. As a content creator and well-known influencer, Skylar had an air of entitlement and a snobby attitude that Cyren would never understand.