Emily Amberflaw hated Mondays.
Because nothing said Mondays like a traffic jam.
And nothing said traffic jam like a standoff at the intersection in the rain, 20 minutes before she was supposed to clock into her shift.
"Yes, Trish, I'm still here. The reception is terrible in this storm...Are you sure this can't wait until I get off work? I'm already late as it is...Well, ok then, if that's what I have to do, but I can't even make my way back home until traffic moves...Yes, I'll try to get there as fast as I can, but there's something going on at the light, and I'm trying to get around it...Wait, can you say that one more time, please?"
Millie leaned in closer to the car radio of her little 2015 Honda, forgetting that doing so didn't really matter, since Trish couldn't see her face anyway. That gentleman at the car dealer shop said all she had to do was give a turn of the little black button-the one that looked like a sewing thimble-and it would crank up the volume louder for the Bluetooth. But the high stakes situation of the morning had made her forget that technology worked for more than just inconveniencing her.
"Sorry, it's just really hard to hear you over-what is that God awful noise? Did you say a blender?...I don't understand, what does he need a blender for? He's banned from the kitchen. Can't you just switch it off when he's not looking?"
The light at the intersection turned green again, and three cars in front of Millie raced at their chance.
Then it was her turn to brave the intersection.
Tightly gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Millie sat up so close to the horn that she practically hugged it.
Of course, there were over a million things that could go wrong in this metal death trap that apparently had a shocking 120-mph-worth of ideas on how to kill her, but apart from that, what was the worst that could happen?
Sure, Pax would be a little annoyed if he ever found out she'd been stealing his car while he was away, but at least he knew her well enough to know that choosing between asking for forgiveness and asking for permission had hardly ever put her on the straight and narrow path.
Not that she was particularly "contrarious", at least not by her own design.
But could she even call them related if she didn't at least try to prove him wrong on occasion or two?
Even so, whatever happened, she wouldn't dare put even a scratch on his Honda that would raise her brother's suspicions too soon about everything she'd been up to while he was gone.
Breathing in and out deeply, Emily gathered her nerves, and carefully tapped on the gas.
Never before had she liked driving this darn thing anyway. Not since the "accident" Pax liked to remind her about when he argued against her getting behind the wheel...
The one accident that had tragically stolen most of her memories.
But Millie would never let anything like that happen again, because when Pax wasn't looking, she'd been studying all 116 pages of that damn driver's manual handbook until all she dreamed about was four-way-stops and signal lights.
She was ready for this.
And she would keep calm and carry on, shifting into drive with her head kept high,and her heart hopeful that this job was the beginning of a "new Millie" she'd been aching to find.
Working as a cashier in the gift shop at the Titanic Museum was just a part-time, but even if $14.20 an hour was pocket change compared to what she and her brother needed to survive in New York City, Emily took pride in having something she could claim as "hers". Something she could keep for herself in her ever-changing world.
'You want a job? What good would that do now? I'm telling you, this is my rubbish to sort out, Em. I'm your older brother, after all. It's my business to take care of you. And I don't want you worrying so much about things like money,' Pax would always say to her, every time she worked up the nerve to tell him about her secret side job. 'Money was never the issue for us anyhow...It's timing, really...And until the timing is right, I don't think it's a good idea for you to form attachments in New York, and that includes work. You know we can't ever stay long in one place.'
"Timing" always seemed to be a constant worry with Pax.
And whatever he meant by waiting for the 'right time', or this mysterious 'fortune' they never seemed to have access to, Emily could never get a straight answer out of her brother.
All she knew was that since the 'accident', Pax had been quite overprotective about her doing things on her own
She supposed she couldn't blame him, considering that the brutal nature of the accident had almost taken everything from her...Whatever that 'everything' was...Try as she might, Emily couldn't quite remember what life was like for her and Pax before the accident...but she imagined Pax had a good reason for worrying about her. Overbearing at times, yes, but they were all each other had. And after all, he was only trying to look after her as best he could because of it.
Still...wasn't it about time that she did something useful to look after him as well?
Even if it meant taking on this cashier job behind his back, anything she could do to ease his worries about money would at least take some of the burden off of his shoulders.
And so, no matter how many Monday mornings she'd have to endure in the rain or in traffic, Emily's mind was made up.
She'd push forward, until going forward was impossible, as the stoplight turned from green to red again at the intersection.
Millie quickly slammed on her brakes, making the Toyota behind her slam on his too, and robbing him of the opportunity to gun past the light.
He fell mad on his horn then, rolling down his window and shouting at her, "Are you fucking kidding me? If you're too scared to drive, then you shouldn't have a license, you cunt!"
With one neat dark brow arching upward, Millie straightened out her rearview mirror to get a good look at the very nice gentleman in his mailbox for a car, mumbling under her breath, "You drive a Prius. Move along, little man."
Because even if it was true that she didn't exactly have a license, surely his didn't give him the right to act like an uncultured buffoon?
And so, awarding the troll behind her no more of her attention, Millie straightened her mirror back out properly and pushed down on the gas to lead her car into a right turn out of the intersection.
Only to slam on her breaks again.
Her tires squeaking to a sudden halt as she narrowly missed the shadowy phantom of a figure that stumbled out of nowhere into the road in front of her.
"Shit," she whispered, catching her breath. "Pax is going to kill me."
Heart racing to catch up with her nerves, Millie's dollishly hazel eyes anxiously chased across the windshield, hoping she'd stopped the car in time before running the random pedestrian down.
Until at last, through the crystal droplets of rain on the glass, Millie's search found her way into the gaze of the bluest sapphires for eyes she'd ever seen, wide and perplexed as they stared back at her through the window glass.
Finding a rough, but safe landing on the hood of her car. A single golden braid hemming the almost-black sleeve of an old timey double-breasted, brass buttoned...peacoat and matching necktie?...and a service cap she couldn't quite catch the emblem of.
"Is that..."
Millie didn't exactly know what to make of him, as his features were too broken and distorted by the diamond prisms of raindrops on the window that kept her from taking his face in fully.
She turned to unbuckle her seatbelt to get out the car and see if he was was alright.
But just as she'd done it, and her windshield wiper dragged up to swipe the glass clean, he was gone.
Stumbling alongside her passenger window as he hurried on his way, weaving between the honking cars around her.
Clearly out of his mind, as he took the morning traffic head on.
But the way her morning was going, who was she to judge anyone for any degree of crazy at this point?
"Yes, I'm still here, Trish...Sorry, there's some idiot dressed like Captain Crunch holding up all the traffic," Millie explained on the phone. "Some people are just so entitled, aren't they?"
Such being the little man in the Toyota behind her, still glaring grotesquely in the reflection of her rearview as he called her every variation of the word cunt from the privacy and safety of his micro-vehicle.
And when the intersection light at last turned green again, Millie took her dear sweet time being exceptionally cuntish, and making a long and leisurely turn right, until the Toyota practically rammed her side mirror off trying to pass, cursing all the way as he went.
Safely out of traffic, Millie put the pedal to the floor, taking another sharp right at the next stop sign that took her in a huge circle around the block all the way back home. Detouring around the construction work on the right shoulder, and knocking some miles off her back tire as it popped over the curb and slammed back onto the road again.
And then full speed ahead toward home.
Because apart from assholes who drove Toyotas, and men who dressed like cartoon characters off of cereal boxes, nothing said Mondays like heading out to work on time, only to turn the car back around because well, you're a cat owner.
"I mean, after all, it is just a blender. Is there a way you can just unplug it until I get there?...He's not letting you?...He's threatening you?...Well, I'm almost there...Yes, I'm really almost there. How many more pedestrians must I sacrifice before it's enough for you? I swear, I'll only be 5 minutes, tops...Well, what about 3?...If you have to keep the blender on to keep him happy, then fine, as long as he's...No, I don't think so, 2 minutes is absolutely pushing it...Please don't leave him alone, I swear, I'm pulling up right now in a minute."
And then as if she meant to kamikaze her way through the garage, Emily swerved into the driveway. Narrowly missing the trash bins and the garage door by a solid inch.
A record, by her count.
The bumper-level dents in the Aluminum garage door a testament to how often she never missed her mark.
And veiling her sandy brown updo from the rain with her stormy grey knitted cardigan, Millie jumped out of her car as Trish was racing out the apartment into hers.
"Please, just give him a chance," Millie pleaded with the frantic pet-sitter on the sidewalk. "He's been through hell this past year, and with my brother away and all, I know he gets lonely sometimes and can act in a bear of a mood-"
"He's crazy!" Trish declared, scowling over at her. "You need to find someone else for that demon cat, because I ain't coming back."
"Please, can you just give it a couple more days? They switched my hours to evening shift, and he just gets a little flustered when my schedule changes, but I swear, it'll get better. He just needs a week or two, and he'll be alright," Millie tried to convince her. "I know I can't pay you more up front, but I'll get the money, if I have to. I just can't miss anymore work, and it means so much to me that I keep this job. It's just he can't be left alone for too long or he'll start to miss me, and start making trouble in the house-Look, I really, really appreciate your help and I know he'll warm up to you, if you just give him the chance. Just please, please stay."
"I feel for you, I really do," Trish empathized, lighting a smoke to 'calm her blood pressure, quite ironically. "But you couldn't pay me enough to watch that cat. Have a blessed day, sweetheart."
And for the first time in 30 nightmarish minutes, Millie's shoulders fell, letting out a heavy sigh as she watched Trish hoopty on down the road, never to be seen again.
But determined as ever that neither rain nor cats would make her lose this job, Millie marched for the front door.
Listening to the blender grinding away loudly inside as she went through 3 sets of keys to get to the one key she wanted.
And meeting her first at the door were the large, owl-like golden eyes of an adorable Scottish Fold.
He hissed grumpily.
"Oh right, you're so clever, aren't you Captain Wentworth?" she checked his sass, as she shook her key free out of the stubborn lock. "You fired another one? You can't keep being so damn picky. I have to work. And I'm gonna run out of people to call soon, and then how are we going to eat?"
Uninterested, Captain Wentworth extended each one of his claws and proceeded to lick his paws. Sliding a nonchalant, honey-eyed glance at Millie as she hurried into the kitchen to turn off the blender.
And satisfied with his handy work, the cat lazily dug his claws into the dining room rug to arch into a long stretch for a nice morning nap.
"I won't have anything, if it means I'll have it easy, will I?"
And Millie swore she caught a hint of a smirk playing across his whiskery chops.
"Fine. Not like I never liked a challenge anyway. If the hard way is how we're doing this," Emily decided, reaching into the coat closet by the front door and brandishing his handy-dandy cat carrier. "Then the hard way is how we're doing it."