Chapter 7 Good Girl
Chapter seven
Good Girl
Trissa
Today was a good day. I’m exhausted, and my body is screaming in protest, but I feel accomplished, and that’s not a feeling I enjoy very often.
I settle down on my lucky couch with a steaming cup of tea and carefully tuck the blanket from my ghost over my lap.
The heat from my cup feels so nice against my slightly chilled hands.
This small moment of perfect peace coaxes a smile from my lips.
The movers came soon after I finished showering.
It didn’t take them long to unload my personal effects, but the addition of all the boxes the estate has had in storage all this time made for a lot more than I was expecting, and now my poor dining room slash craft room is bursting at the seams with towers of boxes.
Thankfully I was able to Cashzap them a tip, seeing as all the money I had set aside was stolen.
I take a sip of my tea and sigh, closing my eyes against the unbidden sting of tears.
All the righteous anger I felt earlier has fizzled out into a conflicted haze of indecision that sits heavy on my heart.
I know common practice now is to cut out the toxic people, but what if in doing so you end up alone?
I haven’t let myself get super close to many people, and Kyle has been in my life since before the accident.
When my amaxophobia continued to get worse, and my friend group grew smaller and smaller, he stayed.
And I mean really, at what point do all my hang-ups and issues make me toxic to other people?
Maybe I’m the problem, and I’m lucky that he and Gabbi even still come around.
Hot, wet tracks run down my cheeks and I feel a familiar tightness in my chest that takes my breath away.
Damn it. Why do I do this to myself? This was a good day.
I take a long drink from my cup and pull my phone out of my pocket, desperate to distract myself from that depressing line of thought.
I open my email and scroll down to the new message the estate sent after we spoke briefly on the phone.
My stomach flutters with nerves again as I hesitate, my thumb hovering just over the screen.
The lady on the phone earlier was friendly and assured me that she would be more than happy to send over the details of the contract and answer any additional questions I may have about the estate, but somehow it all feels more intimidating in written word…
more real. I sit up a little straighter on the couch and down the rest of my tea before resting the empty cup in a little nest of bunched-up blanket.
My free hand rubs the couch for luck while my phone hand opens the email.
Anne Crone
To: Trissa Wilde
Subject: Wilde Estate
Good Afternoon,
I’ll attach a link to our secure server where you can view the full contract, but just to summarize it for you without all the technical mumbo-jumbo—if you fulfill the six month trial period in the house, full control of your very sizable inheritance, including the house, will be transferred over to you.
You may choose to retain our services to help you manage things, but you have no such obligation to do so.
If you do not successfully complete the full six months in the home, everything will remain managed by the estate, and your usual monthly allowance will be given for three months while you search for a job, after which your allowance will drop by half.
After one full year of gainful employment, proof of an obtained driver’s license, and completion of a financial management training course, the estate will transfer full control of your inheritance to you…
however the house will be forfeited to the care of Glamour Estates.
If you have any further questions just let me know!
Blessings,
Anne Crone
I stare slack jawed at my phone as I re-read the email for the fifth time.
That’s it? What happens if I don’t complete the requirements of option two?
A driver’s license. A humorless laugh that’s shrill with panic escapes me.
I’m stuck here… not that I was planning to leave, but this confirms it.
A pang of unease flits through me as I think about what that may mean for my sexual interludes with the ghost. If things go badly, I can’t just leave.
I shiver against that inauspicious thought while a traitorous heat curls low in my gut.
I am mentally unwell. Why does being trapped in a house by these terms as absolutely as if I was tied down with physical bonds excite me?
I chew on my lip and glance around the room. I haven’t felt my invisible housemate since this morning and despite knowing that it’s probably an utterly terrible idea, nothing would make me feel better right now than a distraction. Preferably of the steamy ghost sex kind.
“Casper? You here?” I lean back against the couch to wait, but nothing happens.
Well, shit. My phone dings and I glance down at the screen.
Kyle’s name flashes in my notifications and I purse my lips, still not sure what I want to do with that whole situation.
I glance around the room again, silently begging my ghost to show up and grab my attention so that I can pretend I have an excuse not to deal with this right now.
Still nothing. I roll my shoulders and press call before I lose what little nerve I have.
“Why are you ignoring me, Triss?” Kyle’s voice is whiny and a little wobbly.
“I’ve had movers here all day, Kyle. Movers that I had no cash to tip, by the way.
So thanks for that.” I mentally kick myself for getting accusatory right out of the gate.
My emotions are all over the place and my stomach is in knots because I can’t decide if my anger is worth the guilt trip I’m setting myself up for.
Kyle scoffs and yells, “I told you it was to clean my car, babe!” His voice turns pleading and I curse at how pathetic he sounds.
I’m a sucker for this crap and he knows it.
“C’mon Triss, don’t do this. I was just trying to do something nice and didn’t think you would mind, seeing as it was your snot all over the seat. ”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Kyle…” My throat closes up and I feel a little sick.
I don’t want to alienate him, but I need to stop being such a damn pushover and actually set some boundaries.
I try again, “Kyle, I think we… I think maybe we should like… cool things off for a while. You know, just be friends.”
“What the fuck Trissa, are you serious right now?” The change in his attitude is palpable even through the phone, and a shudder goes down my spine.
“Look, we haven’t really hooked up in like two months, and I know me not wanting to go anywhere is hard on you— “
“Oh bullshit! Don’t pull the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ shit with me.
I know it’s you. All you do is bitch about everything and play the dead parents card every chance you get.
You don’t even ask about me and what kind of shit I’ve got going on.
” His voice is rough and his words sting like a knife in the side.
“H-how dare you? What the hell, Kyle…” I choke on my words and can feel my hands start to shake.
“See? Here you go again. What the hell, Kyle.” His voice is mocking and a chill runs through me as I contemplate just hanging up on him.
“Poor little Trissa Wilde, all alone in her fucking mansion, wiping her spoiled ass with her boat loads of money while she bitches at her boyfriend for borrowing a few bucks!”
“It was one hundred dollars! You know I have a fucking monthly allowance, Kyle.” My body is vibrating with rage, and I feel an almost euphoric sense of relief wash through me as I finally find my missing backbone.
“And I text you all the time, you ass-wad! It’s not my fault you only ever respond when you need money or can’t find someone else to fuck.
” Part of the reason we haven’t been intimate in months would be the infidelity that I’ve pretended not to know about, until now.
I know, it’s stupid and I should have said something sooner…
but if I ignored it, it somehow felt less real. Less irreparable…
“I don’t need this shit. You know what, fuck you. I was going to offer to come over and help you unpack, but screw that. Have fun doing all that heavy lifting by yourself.”
I grit my teeth together but keep quiet. I’m not taking the bait. I am making the right choice, for once.
Kyle laughs but it sounds hollow and derisive. “I hope you like that house, because you’re gonna die in it all alone, and it will be your own fault for pushing everyone away.”
“We’re done.” I quickly hang up the phone and put it down in my lap, taking a deep breath to try and fend off the panic I feel slowly creeping in.
Oh gods. What if he’s right? My vision swims and I pinch my arms in an attempt to help ground myself.
No. No, he’s just mad I cut him off. A watery smile steals across my lips… besides, I won’t be alone, not really.
My phone dings and I groan. I should have known he wouldn’t let me have the last word. I’m tempted to just ignore it, but I know in the long run not looking at it will flare up my nerves and send me spiraling. I take a deep, steadying breath and look at my phone… only, it’s not Kyle.
Unknown: Good girl
I feel a little flutter in my stomach and groan. Of course the best message I’ve gotten all day is a wrong number. I shoot off a wrong number reply and scooch down further into the couch cushions. I should get up and get ready for bed, but I just don’t have the will power to do anything right now.
Unknown: Bad girl
Unknown: Funny girl
Unknown: Clever girl
A dinosaur GIF follows the last text and I laugh out loud. A snort fills the air and I shake my head.
Trissa: What are you doing? Do I know you?
I start to sit up and grab my teacup, moving it to the coffee table. This could be Kyle trying to mess with me, but for some reason that doesn’t feel right. Plus, this person can spell… so, there’s that.
Unknown: Good girl wasn’t what you wanted to hear, so I figured I’d keep guessing until I found one that caught your attention. Should have led with dinosaurs. Silly me. Girls love dinosaurs.
I grin then purse my lips. I wait for the little voice in my head to tell me why it’s a bad idea to talk to strangers, but the bitch is silent for once. Damn. Even the voice in my head is lonely. Alright, I’ll play.
Trissa: Interesting strategy, and wonderful deflection attempt. Do I know you?
Unknown: Do you want to?
My stomach does a somersault as I try to slow my racing heart. Do I?
Trissa: Maybe.
Unknown: I’ll take it.
I smile and re-read the messages again trying to find any clues that might give away anyone I may know.
It’s definitely not Kyle… and I’d like to think that I’m not pathetic enough yet that Gabbi would consider catfishing me as a new friend so I feel less lonely.
Oh man. Why does my brain put these kinds of scenarios in my head.
And why is Gabbi pity-catfishing me worse than a total stranger who could be a serial killer? I sigh in resignation. Fuck it.
Trissa: I’m Trissa.
Unknown: Beautiful. Hello, Trissa. I’m Cian.