55. Rosy
FIFTY-FIVE
ROSY
This week was better. Work had been almost tolerable. I’d enjoyed the usual routine of the gym and dinner with the guys. And I have my date with Noah tomorrow.
I should’ve known life was just luring me into a false sense of security.
“Are you sure it’s meant for us?”
Steph nods, turning the paper on the kitchen island toward me. “Our address and details. I’m sorry, sweets,” she says, her hand coming to rest over mine.
But I can barely feel the contact. My entire body is numb as I read the words on the eviction notice. We have three months to find somewhere else to live because they want to sell.
I’ll have to get used to a new flat, a new bedroom, a new building. It’ll mean no longer living next door to them either.
I don’t want different.
Breathing in through my nose, I release the breath out through my mouth. We just have to plan, to embrace the…change.
The twisting sensation in my abdomen disagrees.
“What’re we going to do? I guess we need to start looking at options now?”
Her gaze slides away from mine. “Well, I was thinking that I might…move in with Faye,” she says, rushing out the last part.
Oh.
That makes sense. They’re moving forward in their relationship, so living together would be a great next step. But where does that leave me?
“Say something?”
“I think that’s wonderful.”
She gives me a pointed look. “Then why do you look like you might cry?”
“Because I’m happy for you.” It’s not a lie. I just omitted telling her how scared I am at the prospect of doing this alone. It’s exactly how I felt the first time I had to look for somewhere to live after Nanna passed away. And now I have to do it all over again.
“I haven’t made any decisions yet; it was just an idea. We thought I could try living there for a week. It will be the first time I’ve lived with a girlfriend.” She shrugs, folding the corners of the eviction notice. “I might hate it.”
“Well, I think it’s sensible to give it a go first; you aren’t committing to anything. And if you feel you don’t want to move in after trialling it, then you still have me.”
“Yeah…okay. A back-up plan. I like that. I’m going to go start packing.”
Steph heads to her room; the momentary panic she’d had gone. She seems excited again. I wish it could be that easy to dispel my ever-present anxiety.
Is that how easy it is for the rest of the world to brush off their worries?
Noticing Moshi, I walk over to the sofa he’s curled up on. Stroking his soft fur does nothing to quell the worry, because what about him? He’s almost ready to go up for adoption, although admittedly, he’s probably ready now. But I’ve been putting it off. I’ve become more attached than I planned.
He’s become a safe space I can come home to and talk to. In the dark, when it’s just the two of us, he’s there for me to confess the fears, the hopes.
Just another thing that will change.
“How do I figure out what to do?”
He yawns, stretching his front legs and curling into something resembling a feline pretzel.
“I’m really going to miss you.”
“You sure you don’t mind me going, sweets? I can stay,” Steph calls from her room.
Giving Moshi one last stroke, I join her.
“Stop. You’re going, and you’ll have the best time living with Faye. Please don’t stay for me. I can live by myself, you know.” I avoid looking at Steph by choosing a jumper from a clothing pile on the bed and folding it into her suitcase.
“You’ve never really lived alone before,” she replies, and this time I don’t know whether to feel frustrated or appreciative of her concern.
“Well, I should do it at some point in my life. Plus, you’re only going for a week. I can survive a week by myself.”
“But if it works out, then I’ll be moving there. So it might not just be a week…”
I spin around to face her, blinking at the slight blur coating my vision. All her doubt before is gone, and I’m glad she’s feeling so positive. Even if her words sting.
“Then I’ll be happy for you, and I’ll find a place to live, whether it’s with someone else or by myself. I’m not helpless.”
“Oh, sweets. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re not. I just don’t want you to be lonely.” She wraps her arms around me and tugging us into a tight hug. “Plus, who’s going to make sure you’re eating more than microwavable crap?”
Laughing, I pull out of her arms and swipe a hand across my eyes. It was only one tear, so it doesn’t count as crying.
“Well then, you best keep in contact with me,” I reply, insecurity niggling at my insides.
It’s easy when we live together. I’m here, so it’s convenient and less effort to keep in contact.
But once we live in separate places, she’ll drift away, occupied with other people and things in her life.
I’m not exactly very exciting. I’m not mad about it.
I know that’s what people do. I’m just feeling sad, knowing it will inevitably happen.
“Always,” she promises, squeezing my hand before she turns to continue packing. Packing more clothes than she would need for just a week.
I don’t correct or respond to her promise. I know she means it.