Penny
Jacob’s dark blue sedan is long gone but I’m still on the porch recovering from whiplash.
A cold breeze rushes past me and widens the gap in the front door. I take the hint and step inside the house, pushing the door shut. The thud is loud in the silence.
I don’t know what to do with myself after I remove my boots and winter wear. Five minutes ago, I was in another panic spiral about my desperate situation, then Jacob threw out a lifeline and rescued me.
Technically, he hasn’t yet.
Still, the fact that he’s even willing to consider helping me is worth celebrating. Yesterday, he practically told me to go fuck myself.
What made him change his mind?
Did he feel sympathy for me after he heard my dilemma, or is it because I called him an asshole and he wanted to prove me wrong?
I close my eyes and cringe as I remember the angry words flying out of my mouth.
“Oh god. Why? Why did I say that out loud?”
For one thing, I’m pretty sure I’m the reason for his personality change. I also can’t believe I told him I didn’t need his help anymore.
That was so, so stupid.
There are moments when I’m proud of myself for doing something cool, like the time I figured out a good, quick technique for painting hair. Then there are moments when I wonder how I survived this long despite my many impulsive and unwise choices.
My phone vibrates from inside my bag. I take it out and June’s picture pulses in the centre of the screen. My thumb hovers over the green button to accept her video call.
Wait, the bruise.
If she sees it, she’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer.
I grab my hat from the hook and pull it on. Her face pops into view when I answer the call, and she greets me with a smile that I immediately return. No matter my mood, June’s smiles and laughs are always infectious.
“Happy friendiversary!” she cheers in a sing-song voice.
I laugh as I sink into Jacob’s couch beside the folded sheet and pillow.
“Aw, I totally forgot that’s today!”
“It’s a reverse from last year. I forgot and you reminded me.”
“OK, it’s my turn next year to call you first.” I continue smiling as I think back on the past. “Time flies, huh? Four years ago, a painting brought us together.”
She grins. “And two hundred and fifty dollars.”
We share another laugh then rehash the painting story like if we’re telling it to strangers. It’s our friendiversary tradition.
June and I met at college. I’d wanted to enter an art contest, and my design was a digital painting of a mermaid sitting on a rock jutting out of the ocean. I loved it, but I hated the unoriginal concept, and it was too late to come up with something new.
I was at the campus picnic table about to beat my head against my drawing tablet. June wandered over and started asking me questions about the painting. We chatted like we were already good friends even though we’d just met.
You could make her a human but someone important. Like a queen. People will want to know why a queen is stranded on a rock in the middle of the ocean.
She was taking a jewellery design course and offered me a couple of her designs to use in my painting. I went with her ideas and we submitted the artwork together. The honourable mention we won was nice, but the cash prize was the best part.
My smile dims. “I can’t meet up with you today, though. I’m not in Toronto.”
June peers closer at the screen.
“Where are you? It looks… rustic.”
I struggle to come up with a good answer that isn’t a lie. June suddenly rears back and twists her lips, an unwell look on her face.
I frown, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“I gotta go. The baby didn’t like his daddy’s chicken wrap this time.”
We end the call with quick goodbyes and my mind lingers on her as I relax into the couch. Pregnancy suits June. She’s always been on the petite side, but now her face is fuller and her boobs got bigger too.
I’m happy for June but I’m also jealous. She’s my age and her life is like a heartwarming fairy tale. Mine is a horror story with no happy ending in sight.
June is married to a hot guy who worships and adores her, they live in a nice house, and in a few months, she’ll be a mom. I’d love the first two for myself. The third… I don’t know.
I think I want kids. Probably for the best I don’t have them. My mother wouldn’t have won any Bestest Mom Ever awards so I didn’t learn how to be a good one from her.
I know what I wouldn’t do to my kid based on my experiences, but who knows. Maybe I’ll fuck up in other ways.
* * *
Full belly, full heart.
Good food lifts the mood.
The way to the heart is through the stomach.
If yesterday is any indication, Jacob and his answer are due home soon. He might be on his way with a firm no, but maybe a taste of my delicious roasted chicken and veggies will change his mind.
Or maybe he’ll be pissed I made myself too comfortable in his house, using up his groceries without his permission.
The food isn’t just for a positive answer. It’s another apology. He said my words were meaningless last night. After swallowing my hurt feelings, I agree.
Telling someone you’re sorry is too easy. Showing it to them in ways that make them happy is a step in the right direction.
Sat at the kitchen table, I drum my fingers on the wooden surface with impatience. I can’t even pay attention to my phone. I slept for most of the day, which is unlike me. My body must have needed it because of the accident. I’m humming with energy despite cooking for the past two hours.
I perk up when car lights sweep across the windows and an engine rumbles outside.
He’s home.
My heart beats faster at keys jingling close by. The front door creaks open and thuds shut, boots stomp then thump onto the mat. Jacob steps into view.
His eyebrows draw together. He’s not happy to see me. Again.
Did he think I would miraculously disappear while he was gone? Maybe he could’ve saved himself some trouble by throwing water on me. I might’ve melted away into a puddle, no longer a thorn in his side.
I open my mouth to welcome him home. He strides past me down the hallway before I can. I deflate in my seat. I don’t think the food will be enough to fill his heart or lift his mood.
Jacob returns several minutes later dressed in a maroon shirt and grey sweat pants.
His hair is a darker brown from dampness and that mild pine scent I like lingers on him.
His shirt isn’t quite a close fit, but it doesn’t hide the firmness under the cotton…
or his strong forearms… or his thick biceps… or his broad shoulders—
I snap out of my trance. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I keep noticing things about my ex-stepfather that I really, really shouldn’t. It’s disturbing. This man used to play board games with me, help me with my homework, and buy me overpriced ice-cream on the weekends.
“You cooked?”
I nod and stand. “I hope that was OK?”
“Yes. It smells good.”
“It wouldn’t have been OK if it smelled terrible?”
A faint smile tugs at his lips. Shockingly, it’s not mean or mocking.
“It would’ve been fine. I've been your guinea pig before.”
He remembers that? I wanted to cook like Grandma Valentina when I was a kid but I was horrible at it then. Poor Jacob suffered my burnt and under-cooked attempts with greedy swallows of water.
His stare moves to my forehead and I’m self-conscious that he’s looking at the bruise. I saw it in the mirror a few hours ago. It’s an ugly blackish-blue with fainter shades of red and purple.
“You should’ve been resting instead of cooking.”
“I slept all day so I had plenty of energy to use.”
I move to the stove and get out the roast from the oven. Jacob joins me in the kitchen and gathers plates and utensils.
It isn’t a large space. His silent, towering presence right beside me as I plate the food makes my hands shake. I accidentally spill some sauce on the counter.
We eat at the kitchen table. When the quiet and my anxiety about his answer becomes too overbearing, I ask one of the most mundane questions in the universe.
“How was work?”
He glances up at me. “Uneventful.”
I suppress my irritation at his one-word answer. I’m talkative enough for the both of us.
“What do you do?”
“I work for the water company.”
“Wow. That’s a big career change. From suits to boots.”
“It is, thanks to you.”
His chilly tone and stare discourages me from further conversation. My hope dies too.
He didn’t change his mind.
He won’t help me.
When our meal is finished, Jacob stands and takes our plates to the sink while I take a quick trip to the bathroom. I wash my face while resisting the urge to cry. The past two days have been so fucking frustrating, I turned into a big baby. I hate it. I’m stronger than this.
Reluctance fills my body as I leave the bathroom. I pause when I find Jacob seated at the table, obviously waiting for me.
“I’m willing to give you the money,” he says in a flat voice.
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yes, really, and you won’t even have to pay me back.”
Oh my god. This is amazing!
It’s like a movie. Just when all seems lost, it’s not. Rescue arrives in the nick of time!
Relief has never, ever felt so sweet. It takes everything in me not to run to him and hug him until he can’t breathe. I take a seat instead.
“Thank you, Jake—Jacob. That’s so generous.”
An unfriendly smile curves his lips.
“You’re so desperate to get what you want, you didn’t hear what I said.”
My smile dims as my body tenses.
“What do you mean?”
“I said I’m willing to give you the money, not that I’m going to do it. If you want even a penny from me, Penny, you have to earn it.”
I should’ve expected this. I should’ve known there was another shoe, ready to drop on my head. Mom taught me over and over again that everything in life is transactional.
Nobody gives something for nothing, baby. You want it, you gotta sacrifice for it.
My brow tightens. “Earn it how?”
“However I like.”
“I don’t like that. You have to be more specific.”
“It doesn’t matter what you like. If you want my money, you’ll do as I say. Whatever I say.”