CHAPTER SIX
LIZ
Hard though I find it to believe, walking into my apartment feels worse than stepping foot inside Lena and Trent’s abandoned home.
Where their place was eerie with an emptiness that felt out of place, mine now reeks of a loneliness woven into every fiber, rooted in every nut and bolt holding the walls in place.
I always told myself it felt sacred. But under the weight of my grief, and the looming threat of failing my sister, these walls don’t offer comfort or safety. They echo with the hollow ache ringing in every beat of my broken heart. I wonder if the next tenants will be able to hear it.
As it turns out, my landlord is thrilled to end my lease and get new people in.
At current rent prices. Which I was not paying.
Something I learned when I called him from the airport to discuss my situation and to go over the options.
I was off the phone and out of my lease before they even started boarding first class.
That much at least, is done already. Now to keep moving from here.
Somewhere between the front door and the sofa, I stop pulling along my little suitcase on wheels.
Next, the strap of my bag slides from my shoulder, snaking its way down my arm, before the weight of the bag drags the whole of it to the floor.
I don’t stop to pick it up. Just let my feet shuffle one in front of the other over the hardwood floors.
“Harriet?” I say quietly. “You here?” I wander through the open space and make my way to the kitchen.
The window over the sink is propped open in lieu of a cat door and the automatic water and food bowls, while still plenty full, have been partaken from.
Enough signs of life to indicate she’s been home while I was away, though she doesn't seem to be around now.
“That’s what I get for choosing to adopt a semi-feral cat. A puppy would have been thrilled to see me. Waiting at the door, wagging tail and all,” I grumble to myself.
Of course, a puppy also would have required more care in my absence. So, maybe a slightly wild, and nearly self-sufficient cat was the right choice.
I make my way to the fridge and pull it open. When I’m greeted with two takeout boxes I should have tossed before I left, an almost empty carton of half and half, and a shriveled up, sad-looking apple, I let the door fall shut again.
“Shower,” I mumble. “Then I’ll figure out food.”
Much like my luggage, I peel off one piece of clothing at a time and let it fall to the floor, leaving a trail of ripped jeans, mismatched socks, and a t-shirt I borrowed from Lena and forgot to return last visit.
Now she’ll always think I stole it.
It’s a ridiculous thought, but one I linger on as the scorching hot water hits my face. I should adjust it, but the burn of it soothes me, offers me a pain I can bear. So, I leave it.
All our lives, Lena swiped my favorite clothes.
Aggravating me to the ends of the earth when I’d have to search her closet for a shirt, or find a stain on a dress, or my favorite shoes with paper towels stuffed in the toes because they didn’t quite fit her yet.
Yet somehow, I wind up being the sister who stole a shirt and never gave it back.
“So fucking stupid,” I mumble, pressing my lips together tightly.
It’s no use.
This is it. The trickle that breaks the dam.
A sob heaves from my chest, and with it a million tears thrust their way to freedom. My knees buckle and my hand splays on the tile, steadying me as I slide down until I’m a crumpled heap over the drain.
An endless stream of fiery drops rains over me, mixing with salted hot tears and spit and snot, the rush of the water cloaking my cries until I’m depleted, and my scalding shower runs cold.
Too tired to think or feel or function beyond going through the motions anchored in muscle memory, my hand reaches up to turn the water off.
My body shakes from the cold and wet, but I stay leaning against the tile, face pressed to the stone, fooling my shattered heart and broken mind into feeling embraced.
Held by the lifeless walls of my shower.
I must fall asleep, because my body has stopped shaking from cold and anguish when I register my surroundings again. My skin has dried and my hair has plastered itself to my face, my arm, and half of my back. Like a misshapen cape on a clumsy superhero still unaware of his impending failure.
I’m not so unaware.
Everything hurts when I try to stand and I end up crawling across my bathroom to the door before I find the strength, and the dignity, to stand.
I pull a towel from the shelf, and three others come with it, falling to the floor. I don’t care.
I keep walking, wrapping the soft cotton around my body as I go.
Food has lost its appeal.
My bed is calling. And with it, a gracious escape into a dreamless sleep.
When I wake the next time, Harriet has returned and taken to sleeping on my chest, purring quietly while her eyes flick lazily in my direction every time I move a little.
“You’re home,” I whisper, digging one hand free from the covers to pet her. “I’m glad you’re here.” She barely acknowledges my appreciation. Just closes her eyes and proceeds to ignore me while her kitty-motor hums away, lulling me back to sleep.
The buzzing of my doorbell rips me from my sleep the third time. Oblivious to time, or the fact I’m naked under the towel haphazardly clinging to my body, I scramble from my covers to answer the incessant intruder.
I trip over my feet halfway across the bedroom, then slide on the socks I abandoned in the hall, but finally, and now wide awake, I arrive at the door and open it.
“Good evening,” a young man with spikey blue hair, glasses, and a taco tattoo on his forearm greets me.
“I have a food delivery for Liz Penny.” He smiles.
When I notice his gaze stay rigidly locked on my face, I remember I’m wearing a towel and glance down to feign a sense of decency I’ve long abandoned.
“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling up the terrycloth on the verge of revealing my left nipple. It takes another second after I’ve adjusted my towel and re-secured it in place before I register what he’s said. “I didn’t order any food.”
The kid nods, smirking oddly as he shifts around the large paper bag in his hands in search of something. A second later, he’s fumbling with the receipt. “I believe the order was placed by a Jovi Daniels.” He holds the crumpled piece of paper toward me. “He added a note.”
Frowning, I take it from him to see for myself.
Fucking eat.
That’s his note. No wonder the kid didn’t want to read it out loud.
“Thanks,” I mumble, reaching one hand out to take the bag while holding my towel in place with the other.
“You’ve got two bottles of water in there too,” the kid goes on. “He said to make sure you knew.” His previously amused manner fades a bit. “Do you need anything else? Your boyfriend seemed kinda worried about you when he called in the order.”
I almost choke on my own spit. “Not my boyfriend. More like my legally bound life partner.”
He frowns. “Like an arranged marriage?”
I consider his description and nod. “Yeah, kind of.” I wrap my arm around the bag of food. It’s still hot and my body soaks up the warmth like a plant takes in rain after drought. “Let me get you a tip, hold on.”
“No need.” He waves me off. “Mr. Daniels has already taken care of that.”
I guess Mr. Daniels takes care of everything. Including me.
I sniff. I don’t know why that pisses me off so much.
“Alright, well, thanks then.”
“Have a good night.” The kid musters one last smile before he turns and takes off.
I swing the door shut and make it two steps before I stop again, undecided about where to go next. Back to bed sounds tempting, but the stiffness in my neck and the tension over my scalp suggest my body has had enough of lying down, so the kitchen it is.
“I’m not even hungry,” I tell Harriet when she shows up at my feet, curiosity having won out over the comforts of bed. “I don’t know why he thinks he needs to be so—” What exactly is Jovi being? Kind? Caring? Nurturing? Gross. “Obnoxious. That’s what he’s being. Obnoxious.”
I shake my head at her, growing increasingly annoyed.
“And I’m going to tell him,” I announce. “As soon as I find my phone.”
Then I catch a whiff of something in the bag. It’s faintly familiar and my stomach growls deeply in response like an angry bear has taken up residence inside me.
“Maybe I’ll see what’s in here first,” I amend my former statement. “And then I’ll find my phone.”
Harriet blinks at me for a second, then proceeds to make her way to her own dish. She never needs to be convinced to eat.
All it takes is one real look inside the bag before I’m back to my original mission.
Find phone.
Call Jovi.
“I hate you,” I tell him the second he answers.
“Ditto. But you didn’t need to call to tell me what has long been established.” Then he has the audacity to laugh. “Eat the damn food, Liz. It’s not a peace offering, it’s a selfish act in the interest of self-preservation. I need you alive to get through the next year.”
“You couldn’t have just sent a fucking pizza?”
He snorts. “Would you have eaten a fucking pizza?”
Out of a cardboard box? Unlikely. “I have food here. I wouldn’t have died,” I change course instead.
Jovi huffs out a noisy breath, sounding annoyed. “I’m going to go now.”
“Fine,” I snap. “I’ll go eat the damn food you sent.”
“And drink the damn water.”
I roll my eyes despite knowing he can’t see it. “And you go get some damn sleep.”
He lets out a laugh, like I’ve caught him off guard. “Excuse me?”
“Think you’re the only one around here who notices shit?
” I mumble, finally starting to unpack my dinner.
“It's obvious you’re not sleeping. So, I’m going to go fucking eat, and you're going to go fucking sleep, so we can both stay alive long enough to do the fucking thing Lena and Trent asked us to fucking do.”