Chapter 3
Mari
“Ow!” I yelp, wincing when Quinn starts on the final knotless braid. The tightness on my scalp has quickly become a throbbing pain.
“I think mission Get the Fuck Out is a great idea,” Quinn says. Her bracelets jingle as she braids my hair at an unfathomable speed.
“If I hear the phrase ‘get the fuck out’ one more time, I’m going to go insane and I’m going to kick you the fuck out .”
I scroll through my laptop, scanning another job rejection email with a tired sigh. The secondhand dining table wobbles every time I type a little too violently, and I can feel my patience thinning with each unstable jolt.
“But it’s true. This fight that Violet has invited you to next weekend is going to get you taking pics for your outdated photography portfolio and it’s going to ... get you the fuck out.”
“Quinn,” I warn. “I’ve just been rejected for another job, and I’m applying for one that requires me to manually input all of my information despite asking for a PDF of my entire resume. I am not in the mood.”
She cackles and drops the finished braid so she can take the boiling pot of water from the stove. “I know you don’t mind living here, but isn’t this like breakup limbo? How are you meant to move on with Isaac still around?”
Quinn’s right. It’s the explanation for why my love life has been painfully stagnant.
“It’s just Isaac. I’ll date again when I move out, I’ve told you this already.”
I tilt my head back to allow Quinn to dip the end of my braids in the boiling water, sealing them so I can add some beads when I have the time.
“At least you’ve tried. The date with my friend’s older brother went well, remember?”
We share a cheesy grin and simultaneously sing his name. “Femi!”
“He’s so hot,” she says.
“ So hot. We had three successful dates ... three ! And on the last one, we actually messed around at his place until the dealbreaker of still living with Isaac came up.” I pause for a moment. “Then I gave up on dating and have been in a slump ever since,” I rush out.
Quinn gasps. “You messed around with him?”
My cheeks warm. “I don’t know why you’re acting surprised. I can have sex with hot guys, you know. We know my type is—”
“Anyone hot and okay with your living situation,” Quinn finishes. “Which also means somebody attractive and also insane.”
She bends around to check the front of my hair. I take the handheld mirror from beside my laptop and scan the fresh braids.
Out of my four cousins, Quinn is the eldest at eighteen. She’s a fresh-faced college student, and her return home for summer break means that she’s available to do my braids, something I take full advantage of.
“Now, please wear your bonnet if you want this to last,” she chides.
I’m about to respond when an annoyingly boisterous laugh sounds from outside of the apartment door—Isaac’s home. His chortle carries through the apartment and permeates the walls like a blaring alarm.
“Fuck off,” Quinn groans at the front door visible from our hair setup in the kitchen. “I will literally build a bed just so you can move back home again.”
“There’s no room. The twins have their own bedrooms now, so your room is gone too. You sleep on the sofa when you come back from college.”
“Okay, then just stay at Violet’s. It’s actually annoying that you won’t just accept her offer.”
Isaac’s keys jingle as he struggles to find the keyhole. Drunk or high again, most likely.
My voice raises with impatience and my heart beats a little faster. “Because it’s not bad here and I can earn enough to move out in the next few months. I’ve said this a million times before, so drop it.”
I don’t want this argument to continue when Isaac steps through the door. I know he’ll find pleasure watching Quinn and me bickering because they hate each other. He always said she would feed me poisonous words about him cheating on me, only for Quinn to end up being right.
“Jesus, Mari, declining help from people who care about you doesn’t make you smart or easygoing,” Quinn says frustratedly.
She pours the boiling water down the sink and washes off the hair gel smeared on the back of her hand.
“Never said it did.”
Quinn stares at me with pursed lips, and her septum piercing moves slightly off-center with the movement.
Our disagreements never last too long. Most of them end up with us getting food, attempting to see what we’d look like as influencers by filming a fake Mukbang in the car, and gossiping in the parking lot until we grow tired. I give Quinn a sad smile and pat my palm against my scalp to soothe a braid threatening to rip the skin from my skull.
The front door swings open and Isaac concludes a conversation on his phone. My stomach sinks, even though I should feel indifferent about him entering his own home.
“Quinn, long time no see,” he says as his tired eyes scan the faux hair lying across the dining table.
The forced acknowledgment Quinn gives Isaac is hilarious and her response even more so. “Not long enough. I can’t stand you.”
Isaac rolls his eyes and focuses on me. “There’s some beat-up car out front,” he says.
Quinn pecks my cheek and stomps past him as she loops her purse around her wrist. “That’s my ride. Later, Mari. Love ya.”
She slams the door hard enough that the sound forces Isaac forward.
None of us feel unsafe around him, but the post-breakup interactions are so strained that anyone in a room with us is eager to leave.
“You’ve redone your hair,” Isaac says unhappily.
“Yep,” I respond. I slam my laptop shut to fill the thick silence lingering between us.
Isaac disappears into the bathroom, and I enter the bedroom a few minutes later after tidying up the kitchen.
“Any luck finding your own place?” he asks from across the hall.
“I have a few options.” Lie.
Isaac stalks into the bedroom with a smirk and shrugs off his clothes. “Like what?”
“A friend’s place.” Semi-lie.
Isaac used to have a face that was handsome and glowing with boyish charm; his short blond hair and blue eyes made him look angelic when we were kids. Now, he’s lost his glow and is unnaturally muscular.
“I just need to save up a little more, then I can move,” I say. “The job search is brutal.”
God, this whole conversation is depressing. I’ve had more invigorating chats with customers at Mel’s than a guy I’ve lived with for eight years.
“I don’t understand what’s so bad about living here. Your rent is basically nothing.”
“We aren’t together and we kind of clash.”
“Well, there won’t be any clashing for a while because I’m going to Turks and Caicos in a couple of weeks.”
My body loosens, and a deep sigh filters through my lips.
Yes, a million times yes. The apartment to myself? Finally.
“What? I thought you just started your podcast,” I say, concealing my relief.
“Eh, we’re getting a lot of pushback, fuck dealing with the haters.” I nod, unsurprised that a podcast he’s called The Alpha Roundtable is being received badly.
My lack of response has Isaac kissing his teeth as he picks up an ugly, too-tight shirt to change into. He stalks toward me and rests his sharp chin on my shoulder.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says. Isaac places a feathery kiss on my cheek, stands tall, and stalks into the living room. I wipe my cheek the second he’s out of sight.
One day you’re a teenager, and then you’re an adult facing the consequences of decisions you made when you didn’t know any better. The same decisions that made me complacent and tolerant of a life I’m still trying to convince myself is worth it. Because if I’m not the girl still in a thriving, long-term relationship with her high school sweetheart, I’m just someone who’s wasted away a considerable chunk of her life.
Am I ready to admit that? Hell no.