Chapter 6 Miller - Utterly, Totally, and Completely Fucked
It’s been well over a week since I’ve heard from our landlord, Ernie. It’s two weeks past the date he told us the apartment would be ready. I’d like to say I’ve remained calm about the whole thing, but the slew of less than pleasant voicemails I’ve left him today would tell a different story.
Something’s up, and I’m pretty sure I know I’m not gonna like whatever the outcome is.
I tried my hardest to think positively, to will things into working out.
I put my all into making sure Penelope is set and settled in school.
I emailed her teacher last week to check in, she assured me P is one of the politest, happiest, smartest kids in the class.
I’m not surprised but I love hearing it.
We’ve fallen into a new normal, and the days have been fine. They’re filled with work and pitching in at the cafe. The afternoons and evenings are booked and busy with homework and dinner that we’ve porch dropped at Gwen’s before we start P’s bedtime routine.
We haven’t talked about it besides Gwen thanking Penelope every single day with a hug that always feels like it lasts just a bit longer each time.
I took a picture yesterday. I’ve been meaning to send it to Gwen, but every time I pull up our text thread, I can’t bring myself to do it.
We haven’t texted since the first night Penelope and I brought her dinner.
Her response to my fucking moronic message is the last thing there.
Gwendolyn
hi miller caswell. it’s me, red or gwen or gwendolyn or whatever lol. i hope you’re right. about it getting better. thank you.
She doesn’t mention the notes. I haven’t brought them up either, but I continue to leave one with every delivery. I mean, she probably just tosses them. It’s dumb.
Nights are tough when Penelope’s asleep and I have nothing to distract me from the fact that I just fucking wish I had someone to unwind and talk out the day with. I have to overthink living in this apartment, and if we’ve overstayed our welcome, and what our next move is going to be.
Gus Burton stops by to hang sometimes, which is something I’m getting used to but appreciating a shit ton. He’s Sawyer’s best friend and from what Margot tells me, basically his brother.
I don’t know what was going through my head when I invited him over the first time.
I splurged on the new PS5 a while back and…
a friend sounded nice. I keep in touch online with some of the guys I went to school with, but my life has always been so significantly different from theirs in all aspects that getting together hasn’t been a thing.
Jesus, that’s lame as hell.
Gus is quiet as fuck. Not much to say except game talk when we’re playing, but I like him.
He’s a good guy. I’ve thought about asking Sawyer if he wants to join sometime, and I probably will, but he and Margot are enjoying their time together right now with the weight lifted off their shoulders knowing Sawyer isn’t the new dad in town.
So, things have been fine, I guess. But my luck is about to run out. I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket and pull it out to see Ernie’s name come across the screen with an incoming call.
“Nice of you to fucking call me back, Ernie,” I answer. My patience for this guy ran out a week ago.
“Miller, kid. I’m sorry to leave you hanging. Please. Understand I’ve had a lot going on.” I can hear his heavy ass breathing into the phone and look up in fucking prayer that I can keep it together.
“Yeah, and me and Penelope haven’t, not knowing what was going on with our home,” I snap.
“I know, I know. Listen—I get it. Miller, come on. I gotta have a chat with you.”
I inhale and run through the worst case scenario. No end date on the repairs, or something went wrong and our stuff got damaged. I don’t remember what my renters insurance covers. Fuck.
I exhale, and he takes that as his cue to proceed. “I sold the building.”
Oh. Nope. That’s definitely the worst case scenario.
“You’re joking.” He’s joking.
“The repairs felt like they were adding up to be more than the place was worth to me. This whole thing has been such a headache, it’s hard on an old man.”
“You’re barely fucking forty, Ernie.”
“You’ll know what I mean when you’re my age.
I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna have to do this to you.
I’m gonna go ahead and give you back your last month’s rent and deposit in full, of course.
The buyers are talking about wanting to demo but…
” He trails off, clearly not knowing what to say.
“I don’t know the logistics. But maybe you could ask Red about renting from her officially? ”
I’m so fucked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. Thanks, about the rent. I, um—” I clear my throat and try to process the next steps. I give myself a second to breathe so I don’t threaten to knock this guy out. “Thank you. For the call, Ernie. I’ll…We’ll be in touch or whatever, okay?” I need to get off the phone.
Ernie’s taken aback by my abruptness. “Oh, of course. Yes, Miller. Again, I’m sor—”
“Yeah, you’re sorry. Thank you.” I end the call and throw my phone down the couch. It bounces on the cushion and falls to the hardwood floor, facing screen down.
With my luck, it’s shattered and I’m going to either have to deal with shards of glass in my thumb or fork up cash we definitely need to be saving now that our living situation is fucked.
Realistically, I’m more than sure Gwen would let us stay long term. But what I’m not so sure on is if I’m comfortable with that.
I don’t like owing people things; I don’t do favors or handouts. Everything I have, besides this short stay I begrudgingly agreed to for the sake of my daughter’s living situation, is because I’ve worked my ass off for it.
Checking the time on my watch, I see my lunch break is up, and I have about two hours until I need to get P from school to figure my shit out. I blew Ernie off so fast I didn’t even get the chance to ask how long we had to clear our stuff out or anything.
Shutting down conversations like that is a deadbeat dad trait that I picked up on that’s hard to break. I’m dealing with it.
I grab my cell off the floor and inspect it to confirm I didn’t just screw myself even more with a broken phone before heading back down to the cafe.
Gwen jumps up from where she’s leaning against the counter when she hears me shut the door.
“Sorry!” I try to get out as fast as possible. She’s always been kind of jumpy, but since the news spread about Dean and the baby, she’s been even more on edge, and I feel real shitty contributing to that in any way.
She looks up and those eyes—fuck—filled with so much hurt and pain that she won’t let out, look up to meet mine.
I forget every hard thing I’m about to have to deal with.
I’d do anything to take away a fraction of what she’s feeling, she’s the least deserving of this kind of heartbreak over and over again.
I felt bad the night at The Bar when I punched Dean. Yeah, I knew him from around town as the asshole cop who thought his shit didn’t stink, but he didn’t do anything to me personally. And while I still stood by my decision because he was mouthing off to Margot, a part of me felt gross about it.
But at least three years of cheating and lying that resulted in a baby with another woman? When you had someone like Gwendolyn Bozelli?
I wish I hit him twice.
“Oh! Miller, hey. No, not your fault. Don’t apologize.” She shakes her head, and I watch her hair practically dance around her face. She takes one step forward. “Wait, what’s wrong?”
How does somebody who goes out of their way to avoid me ninety-nine percent of the time recognize right off the bat when something isn’t right? I feel like I put so much energy into trying to catch everything, and Gwen just does it effortlessly.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I half mumble as I walk to my regular booth in the corner. My work laptop is there, right where I left it before my lunch break.
Gwen follows me and sits down on the other side of the table. “You’re a bad liar, Miller.”
“Sorry,” I repeat, opening my laptop to see three new password reset requests, a chat asking for help with some document attachments, and an email from my manager, all waiting for my attention. All of the tasks are marked urgent when each sender and I all know they’re not.
“Stop saying sorry and tell me what’s going on, and I’ll forgive you.” There’s a lightness to her voice I haven’t heard in a while, and it makes me pause enough to glance up at her to see she’s smiling. It’s one of those big ones that makes me think I forget how to breathe.
I smirk back at her, appreciating the distraction from my downward spiral she doesn’t even know she’s offering me by just giving me this lick of attention.
“Let me clean up my inbox, and I’m all yours.” Why did I just say that?
Her cheeks darken, and I feel my own heat up. Embarrassing as fuck.
“What do you do for work anyway?” she asks.
I’m happy to pivot this conversation more than she knows. “I’m the IT guy for Coastal Savings.”
“You work at the bank?!” She’s making it sound like I save kittens from trees or routinely perform open heart surgery.
I get started on the password reset requests first while I think of how to respond to her without launching into a long ass story she doesn’t actually care to hear.
“Yeah, I got a part-time job as a teller when I was sixteen. My manager, Steph, saw what I was juggling…trying to finish school, learning how to adjust to life with a newborn. She took a chance on me, and I’ll never forget it.
I’ve always been good with computers and shit so when an IT position opened, she got me in the door. ”