Cleric of Aphrodite

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Mom always told me I could be anything I wanted. Bullshit.

Okay, that’s too harsh. Mom’s been sick a lot recently. Yet, she’s still taking me to the movies and calling me up for long chats about our favorite TV shows.

I’m sure being the single parent of a “gifted” child wasn’t easy, either. I could always counter all her rules like I was an experienced lawyer. I acted out in school a lot because everything was too easy and boring. But she took it all with a smile, making it seem effortless when I know it wasn’t.

Mom means it when she goes on about how special I am.

That doesn’t mean she’s right. Skills, experience, and hard work mean fuck all when luck isn’t on your side.

Besides, this isn’t like one of the fantasy RPGs I play.

In the real world, we’re not heroes on an epic quest, and we don’t level up simply by trying.

I’m sure Mom meant for her words to encourage me to stick to a successful life plan that involved choosing an impressive job, getting married, having kids, and buying a house.

And I’ve tried; I’ve really tried. But adulthood doesn’t come with gold stars and glowing report cards like school did.

The pizza lunches my job provides instead of pay raises don’t have the same appeal as the free personal pan pizza I got for reading a hundred books.

My motivation to achieve anything has all but disappeared without consistent external validation.

Yes, I have a college degree, but I took a while getting it because I kept changing my mind about what I should major in. Now, I have a bachelor’s in art history. Art history. I’m not going to be the doctor or lawyer that would make a parent proud.

While I stay employed, I get burned out with any job I take. I’ve only been doing tech support for three months now and I already feel like quitting and getting a teaching certificate to become an art teacher.

Jesus, Lauren, get a grip. You’d quit that job on day one.

As far as getting married and having kids?

There’s my live-in boyfriend, Doug, but…

well…I mean, he’s Doug. He’s like the first car I ever drove: familiar, easy, and still sticking around eleven years later.

Another thing they have in common is that neither of them are working right now.

I’ve been taking the train to work for three days, while Doug has been at our house doing nothing for the last two years, four months, and six days.

Not that I’m keeping track of how long all the bills have been on my plate or anything.

I spent all day getting yelled at by people who don’t understand how to use my company’s software program.

The ride home wasn’t a breeze either. My extreme social anxiety hated that the train was fuller than usual.

I’m pretty sure the man six seats down from me on the Yellow Line was masturbating while talking to himself.

Even with my giant pink cat headphones on, my entire being was on high fucking alert.

The ten-minute Uber ride from the station to my apartment complex was also a nightmare.

My driver wanted to know if I’d found Jesus.

If I wasn’t so averse to talking to strangers, I would have asked him how long Jesus had been lost.

But there are two things to look forward to when I get back home: there’s an unopened bag of cheese puffs waiting for me in my pantry, and I got paid today, so I can finally preorder that new, hyped-up, single-player fantasy RPG Legends of Sacrifice.

I open the door to my apartment, expecting to take advantage of these two things and then binge-watch my favorite show. However, the first thing I see is Doug sitting at my computer with a completely empty bag of cheese puffs next to him.

I should know better by now. Keeping my expectations low means I’ll never be disappointed. I’m not disappointed right now, though. I’m angry.

Doug barely notices my presence. There was a time when he’d rush to see me at the end of the day and tell me how pretty my caramel blonde hair and gray eyes were.

Now he’s too absorbed in grinding the starting area of the same MMO he’s been playing since high school to care that I’m back.

The game, Straying Tempest, is actually how we met.

We didn’t go to the same school, but we both loved dungeon crawling online with other kids our age.

It was fun back then, but it felt like a slog after a few years.

So I’ve moved on to other games, while he lives in the past.

I put my purse up before walking over to him and clearing my throat.

“Just a minute, babe,” he says, not even blinking in my direction. “Almost done culling these corrupted rats.”

Breathe, Lauren. It’s just a bag of cheese puffs. This is your boyfriend of eleven years. You know he does dumb stuff like this sometimes. You just need to communicate.

Doug licks his bottom lip as he kills off the last rodent for his quest. Then he turns to me with the Labrador puppy smile that he usually uses in an “ask for forgiveness, not permission” kind of way. I’m about to be even more pissed at him. I can tell.

“Oh, hey, I used your card to buy the new Straying Tempest expansion,” he says. “Hope you don’t mind.”

I clench and unclench my hands in an effort to keep my anger out of my tone. “Doug, you have that card in case of an emergency.”

“Well, I mean it was fifty percent off today, so it was kind of an emergency.”

“How much?”

Doug shrugs. “I think seventy-five.”

“Dollars?!” I can’t be hearing him right.

“Well, I mean, that’s after tax, but—”

“Doug! I don’t have that kind of fucking money!”

Holding his hands up defensively, Doug gets up from his seat and backs away from me. “You just got paid, Lauren.”

“Yeah, and all of that is going toward bills,” I say. “You know what bills are, right? It’s how I keep a roof over our heads, make sure we never lose electricity, and keep a fully stocked kitchen.”

My gaze flicks over to the empty bag of cheese puffs on my desk. Orange dust is all over the place, especially on the W, A, S, and D keys of my keyboard.

“And you ate all my cheese puffs!” I half-shout, half-sulk. “I pay for all our food. Could you at least ask before you eat my stuff?”

“I didn’t realize snacks were only for you,” Doug says. “I guess since I lost my job, I don’t deserve to eat.”

He’s using that same “I’m the victim here” tone I’ve tolerated for years. It usually works on me, making me feel like I’m the asshole for simply reacting to the bullshit he’s pulled on me.

I don’t know why today is different. Maybe it’s because of the sad realization that a bag of junk food was going to be the highlight of my day.

Perhaps it was learning that I wasn’t going to be able to preorder Legends of Sacrifice.

It could even be because that dude on the train was trying to make eye contact with me when he put his hands in his pants. Whatever the reason, I’ve had enough.

“Out,” I say, pointing at the door.

Doug just stands there, looking at me like I spoke to him in an alien language.

So I elaborate. “O.U.T. Out. Get your stuff and get the fuck out of my apartment.”

This breaks him out of his stupor, and he crosses his arms. “Our apartment, Lauren. My name is on the lease, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll let the landlord know that I’m leaving, and it’s all under your name now,” I say. “Good luck paying your rent with no job.”

“Lauren, babe—” he starts, but I’m not about to let him continue the false apology he’s about to improvise.

“Doug,” I say, with a calmer tone than I’ve been able to muster in months, “I want you to listen to me and understand that every word coming out of me is sincere. You haven’t pulled your weight as a roommate for as long as we’ve lived together.”

“Babe, I can—”

I hold up a finger, stopping him immediately.

“That would be okay if I thought you were even trying. Hell, even if we’d had sex at any point in the last eight months.

But you sit around my house all day doing the same bullshit you’ve been doing since high school.

Also, you should at least mute your phone when you’re masturbating in the bathroom.

I definitely didn’t need to know what kind of porn you’re into.

Not to kink shame, but…Bugs Bunny? I don’t get it. ”

“W-well,” Doug blubbers, eyes wide and cheeks blushing with embarrassment. “I could say a lot about you, too, you know. All you do is work and then come home in a bad mood.”

I don’t even have a response to his boneheaded words. Honestly, how can anyone be this obtuse? Instead, I pull my phone out of my back pocket and open up my contact list.

“What are you doing?” Doug asks.

“Calling Pete,” I answer.

Doug knows he’s in for it now. Pete’s his big brother, the one who always has to bail Doug out of his messes if I’m not around. He’s the last resort, though, because once Pete’s involved, so is their mother, and that woman certainly knows how to guilt-trip her children.

Doug tries to snatch my phone from my hands, but I dodge away in time. Pete answers right away. He knows that if I’m not texting, something’s really important.

“Lauren, everything okay?” he asks in greeting.

“Nope,” I say. “I need you to come pick up your brother and grab his stuff. I’m done.”

“Done, done?” he asks.

“One hundred percent.”

Pete’s sigh of resignation rattles the line with static. “Well…I guess that’s that then. Let Doug know I’ll be there by eight. I gotta finish up work first.”

“Will do. See you then, Pete.”

“See ya,” Pete says before he hangs up.

Doug’s crying now. “You’re gonna be so sorry you did this.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry it took me this long.”

“You’re going to be so lonely once I leave,” he says. “No one will ever love you like I do.”

That stings a little, because I’m pretty sure he’s right.

I haven’t been happy in our relationship for a long time, but I’ve stuck with it because I believed Doug was the only guy who would ever want to be with me.

As I look at Doug’s entitled and outraged expression, though, I’m willing to throw away any chance I might have at romance.

“Yeah, I don’t mind if I’m single for the rest of my life,” I say. “At least I’ll be able to eat my cheese puffs in fucking peace.”