A warm gust of wind blew through my partially opened window, shifting the sheer curtains apart to let the city lights illuminate my bedroom. Even at night you couldn't escape the constant noise. The screaming and bickering of the tenants living in the apartment above me. Police and ambulance sirens that never seemed to rest. The clock; ticking feverishly on the wall hanging over my head. But if I had to pick one thing, I hated the most, it would be the never ending cars soaring along the busy highway.
There was no peace, not in the city of Boswell.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched the unnamed man from the bar last night roll over to face me. His muscular arm slung over me, to rest on my exposed chest. I fought back the urge to cringe. The darkness of the room made his features hard to distinguish, but I could tell he was handsome. He looked older than me, probably in his thirties and judging by his wedding ring, he was scum.
But what did that make me, the woman that slept with a married man? It would be best not to get into that line of thinking. Not today.
Thankfully he was still asleep, so at least I don't have to have the awkward small talk that comes with bringing strangers home. Instead I carefully maneuvered myself out from under him, without waking him. My cheap mattress squeaked as I pulled myself into a seated position at the edge of the bed. I leaned down to gather my robe off the floor and didn't hesitate to wrap it around myself. I couldn't stand being naked. It reminded me of the look that would come to the eyes of many men in the past. It was always different, for some of them, they would stare at me with animalistic hunger, while others would appear unimpressed. Some men were quick to point out my lacking qualities. My body was nothing special. I was slender, without any real noticeable curves. Average size breasts, non-existent ass, I could have probably blended easily into any background. I was utterly bland in every way.
Carefully I lifted myself up from the bed; being sure not to jostle the man awake. My apartment wasn't very big and was probably the oldest building in the city. But it was all I could afford. Well, afford was a strong word, I managed to pay rent on time occasionally.
The wooden floorboards creaked and groaned with each step. There was always a faint smell; that you could notice in every room. It wasn't a scent that was easy to describe, the closest thing I could compare it to was the smell of an old musty basement. The air was stagnant, it was something I've just learned to get used to. No matter how long I leave the windows open, the smell never leaves completely.
Since most of my apartment has a large amount of windows, it was never too dark. The only exception was the bedroom, where there is only one window. So needless to say, my bedroom was the place I spent the most time. I enjoyed my privacy, which was something rare in this city. Someone was always around pestering me.
At times, I wished that I could move. I'd like to return back home, to the open fields as far as the eye could see. The small family farm that up until a few years ago was run by my parents. The small rural town was barely big enough to be considered a town, my entire extended family made up at least half of the population. But I knew there was no way to make any real money in that area. And money was something I needed desperately.
I crept through the dark, avoiding the parts of the floor that made the loudest creaks and headed straight for the bathroom. It was just a few steps from the bedroom and was probably the size of a walk-in closet. The bathroom design left something to be desired. Old linoleum floor, I never could figure out what color it was, there were years of different colored stains coating it. I've bleached the floor countless times, but nothing seems to help. The walls were a basic yellow wallpaper with an abstract design that wrapped around just the very top. It had a very dated look - something that came straight out of the eighties.
The standing shower and toilet were pushed tightly together on the same wall. Directly across from that was a tiny sink that only worked half the time. The space was so small, that you couldn't open the glass door to the shower the entire way, it would hit the sink.
The smell in the bathroom was a lot worse than the rest of the apartment, especially tonight. I hadn't fully remembered getting sick last night, but once I saw the putrid mess on and around the toilet, I began to remember. I could recall leaning over the toilet and with a warm hand on my shoulder, and another hand holding back my hair.
Food particles, mixed with the smell of those fruity cocktails I had been drinking non-stop, was all I could determine. The smell alone almost had me puking again. I was disgusting. Why did I put myself through all this? It wasn't worth the headache.
So, why did I return to the same bar every night? It was just two blocks down the road from my place, always packed full of loud, obnoxious people. Maybe there was a small part of me that couldn't stand the quietness. I have lived alone for a year now. It's something that I wasn't used to. When I lived back home my family was always around.
Even if my parents took a trip to town, leaving me and my little sister at home, our cousins, aunts, uncles, you name it, they would come around to keep us company. But here, in my tiny, one bedroom apartment, there was nothing but me and my thoughts.
With a collected breath, I began cleaning up the mess I made. I was determined to make this the last time. I wouldn't drink my life away. If I was going to make any money in this city, I needed to not spend it on alcohol. I had to focus on the reason that I made the move here to begin with. I would stick to it. My family is counting on me. I won't let them down.
After I finished cleaning up the bathroom, I decided it would be best to get a shower. After what took place only hours ago, I'm not sure just taking one shower would be enough. I felt like there was an invisible layer of filth all over my body - my hair was in more of a mess than usual; it was knotted up painfully. I stood under the scorching water, for what felt like eternity, breaking the knots in my hair apart with my fingers. There was a vendor that stationed themselves outside of this apartment from time to time. She would always flag me down to try and sell me hair products. Of course, I would politely decline each and every time. But last week, I gave in and bought a bottle of shampoo, conditioner and body wash. The scents were all lavender and sage, which the woman had stated is good for calming down the body and spirit. I've been using them daily, not only do they smell heavenly, but they leave my skin and hair feeling so soft. I would have to buy more. Although, her prices were a little steep.
As I washed my body, something caught my eye. There was writing inscribed in my forearm. It appeared to be in a different language. The lines were a solid black.
No, no way. Please don't tell me.
I began to wash the area quickly, using a little more force. But the strange inscription remained, not fading even slightly. The sound of my mother's voice was now in my head. Isabella Marie, you should be ashamed.
I can't believe it, I didn't know I had gotten that drunk last night. I actually got a tattoo, without any memory of doing so. This had to be a sign, I've hit rock bottom. I was even more convinced now, that my drinking days are over. It might not have been so bad, if the tattoo was something like a flower, but I couldn't even read what it said.
Once I felt that I was as clean as I was going to get I stepped out of the shower and dried off. I wrapped my hair up in a towel and slid on one of my old shirts. Since my move to the big city, I've lost a lot of weight, so most of my clothes were much too big for me now. My shirt reached down almost to my knees. It didn't matter to me, but each time I made the trip home, to visit my mother, she would complain of how small I've gotten. I knew that she worried about me being here, but she understood this was for the best. Farmers don't receive health insurance, not in our little town. Which wasn't something either of my parents worried about, at the time. Until cancer took the life of my father.
My heart clenched in my chest, at the thought of my father and how he suffered. When we lost him, we lost everything. That man was the world to me. He was always so kind, probably the most loved person in town. Everyone knew him and would stop by the farm to help him out with work, or drop him off gifts for a project that he had helped them with in the past. He was always going out of his way to help others. It wasn't fair that he was taken from us so suddenly.
I stood in front of the sink, lost in my thoughts as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked so much like my father, at times I couldn't even bear to look at myself. He would call me, his little brownie. Because of my brown hair - identical to his. My father and I were the only brown haired people in our family of redheads. The only thing I inherited from my mother was her pale blue eyes. In my opinion, I wouldn't consider myself ugly, in fact I was considered pretty back in my old little town. But here in the city, the standards of what was beautiful were much different. To be considered beautiful, in the city of Boswell, you had to be skinny, have huge, perfect boobs, blonde hair and enough money to wear the most expensive clothes. Beauty meant wearing makeup, high heels and driving sports cars.
That wasn't me, not by a long shot. I was just the weird, hillbilly chick. I wore jeans and hand-me-down shirts. I didn't own anything worth more than twenty bucks. Even the little street scooter I rode to work on every day, didn't cost a thing. My uncle and his boys found it, they fixed it up for me, and hauled it right to my apartment. It was considered my farewell gift when moved. It has broken down more times than I could count over this past year, but it meant the world to me.
Since my father had passed away, my uncle Charlie became the guy I depended on. I was sixteen when my father died, my little sister Ana was only ten. My mother had shut down for a while, she barely could keep up with running the house, tending the farm and raising the two of us. So, when she started drinking, uncle Charlie stepped in. He taught me to drive, he helped Ana with her home schooling, he took over the role of tending the farm. Things were going smoothly. It was a hard couple years for all of us, but we made it through. I thought that everything was going to be okay. My mother stopped drinking, she actually would smile and it felt like she was getting back to her old self. Until Ana started getting sick.
I forced myself to look away from the mirror, I knew if I kept getting lost in the memories of the past, I would just end up sitting around in a state of depression for the rest of the day. I had to stay hopeful and positive. Today, I would have to work hard. I needed about a thousand dollars by the end of this week. Ana was counting on me.
Walking out of the bathroom, I took note of the subtle changes of daylight beginning to spill through the windows. The room was already beginning to get too hot. I didn't have an air conditioner yet, it just wasn't something I could afford. I had found an old fan, tossed out in the alleyway a few weeks back. I wasn't sure who, or why someone would throw it away, but I wasn't about to complain. After taking it apart and cleaning it out well, it ran perfectly fine. It was better than nothing.
This apartment came furnished with some basic necessities, the living room had bright olive green shag carpeting, an odd sized couch - that you would think two people could sit on it, but the one side of the couch was broken beyond repair. There was an ancient box TV that I had sitting on some of my old moving boxes. It sat directly in front of the couch, although I didn't bother watching much TV, I never did when I lived back home either. I really only watched it for the weather, or when they were announcing lottery numbers. I knew the lottery was a waste of time, but if there was even a chance - no matter how slim that chance may be, I would take it. There was a lamp that I had brought from home that sat next to the couch, of course I put it on the side of the couch that could actually be sat on. I usually would sit there and read in the late evening, if I wasn't out at the bar.
In the beginning, I felt homesick, nearly every day, it was something I mentioned in my letters to homes. Uncle Charlie started sending me pictures with each letter and soon the entire wall of my living room was filled with pictures of family. It was comforting, it kept me motivated.
Walking through the small living space, I noticed an unfamiliar black jacket slung over the couch. There was also a pair of business shoes tossed next to the door. The living room and kitchen were designed as an open floor, nothing separates one from the other, except for the hard line across the floor where the shag carpet ended and the linoleum floor; which was the same as flooring the bathroom had started.
I had a small table, it really only could fit one person. It was probably the size of a pizza box. But it was all that I really needed. I was the only one that lived here. On the single wooden chair laid a pristine, white dress shirt. It looked so out of place here in my apartment. It still had a lingering smell of cologne. There was a wallet and a name brand watch sitting on the table. I guess the man from last night must have been some kind of business man. He had money. It was tempting to look through his things, possibly take a few bucks from the wallet, but I didn't touch it. I wouldn't lower myself to petty theft. I was desperate for money, but I wouldn't turn to criminal acts to get it. That wasn't how I was raised to be. My father always taught my sister and I that if you want to become a worthwhile person, it takes hard work, no shortcuts.
But I wouldn't deny, the thoughts still cross my mind from time to time.
I moved past the table and went straight for the fridge. I didn't have much lunch meat, a few eggs and a half gallon jug of milk, that was probably past its expiration. I would need to get groceries soon, but that wasn't on my list of priorities. I'd just make myself some eggs, that would be a decent enough breakfast.
After some further searching through the cabinets, I found a few old pieces of bread that had a few spots of mold on them. I took a single slice and just picked the bad spots off, before tossing it in the toaster. There was a bit of old coffee left in the coffee pot from yesterday, just a few seconds in the microwave and it would be fine. This was my life. It was modest and at times a little hard, but I'd never complain. There were a lot of people in this city that were much worse off than me. I made it work.
As I was frying up my eggs I heard shuffling from the bedroom, along with some quiet muttering. I suppose my guest was awake. Hopefully he would just gather up his things and attempt to sneak off. That's how it usually was. I didn't turn away from the stove, I just listened intently at the creaking of the floor.
I didn't even want to look at him. He would just be a reminder of all my bad choices lately. He was quiet at first, but as he approached the kitchen area, most likely to retrieve his shift, I heard him yawn.
The sudden noise made me freeze, but I refused to turn around.
"Good morning, what are you cooking? It smells pretty good." His voice was startling deep, yet his tone was gentle.
My mind was racing, I had been caught off guard by how casual he spoke. Why didn't he just sneak out? Why did he want to go through this awkward chit chat? Didn't he get what he wanted from me? Shouldn't he be on his way without another thought.
"Eggs," I muttered plainly.
To my further surprise, I listened as the chair to the table slid out against the floor and another collective yawn was heard from him. What? He planned on sticking around? I don't think so.
I turned in his direction now, taking in the sight of this man seated in my kitchen. He was only in a pair of black dress pants. His body was impressive, I hadn't noticed how nice his rounded muscles are. His hair was tousled to one side, a unique bronze in color. His eyes were dark and alluring emerald. He wasn't quite as pale as I was, his skin had a natural sun-kissed glow, similar to the men I'd see along the beaches of Boswell. But judging by his expensive clothing, he didn't look the type to frequent the beach scene.
"Not much of a talker, that's alright, although you were much chattier at the bar last night." He mused as he snagged his wallet from the table, his eyes scanned through the contents for just a moment. "It's comforting to know that you aren't a thief either."
Now I was getting annoyed.
"Of course not," I turned back to the stove, focusing on scrambling my eggs. "I'm a lot of things, but I'd never steal from someone." I hoped that my abrupt tone would have ended any further interaction.
"You have a little spunk too, I like it." He replied, sounding almost amused.
"Is there something you want from me?" I sighed as I turned my stove off. If I cooked it any longer it would have burned. I couldn't avoid looking at him now.
He wasn't nearly as old as I had thought when I woke up, he could be close to my age, for sure. Although he had a very mature aura. Wise beyond his years. That was just a hunch. He was handsome, sure. But he did have a wedding band, that much I noticed. I wished that I would have noticed last night, before taking him home with me. I didn't want to be that girl. I've known girls back home, that was like that. My mother always told me, I could be anything I wanted to be in this life, except for a homewrecker.
"Some eggs would be nice." He said with a slight smirk.
Was this guy serious? He wanted me to make him breakfast now? Wasn't last night enough for him?
"And what makes you think that I'll make you breakfast? I don't even know you."
"Well, you didn't have to know me to sleep with me, did you? I don't see why it should be any different now?"
His words cut like a knife. This was more or less what I had been expecting. I was trash in his eyes. He thought he could stick around and see what else he could use me for. But the same could be said for me, I used him as well. I didn't care who he was.
He noticed my subtle changes in demeanor and quickly responded with sheepishness. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was trying to be funny. I'll remember in the future to keep all jokes out of conversation."
"In the future," I raised my brow. "It's not likely I'm ever going to see you again after today." I reluctantly moved back to the cabinets and got out two paper plates. I divided the eggs that I just made. I don't know why, but it was just something I couldn't stop myself from doing. If someone came to my home and asked for food, I couldn't refuse. I wouldn't turn away someone hungry. I suppose this was my way of saying sorry, for carelessly using this man for my own benefits last night.
He seemed surprised when I laid the plate of eggs on the table in front of him. The one corner of his mouth raised slightly and his eyes followed me with silent intensity. His presence in my house created an energy that I wasn't completely familiar with. It was almost nice, having someone here to have a meal with.
"This is all I have, so please eat and kindly get the hell out of here." I said with a firm look.
"Not the best manners, but I think I can overlook that for now." He shrugged his shoulders with a wider smile coming to his face.
I got the plastic forks, one for each of us and for a brief moment, we ate in silence. It was the strangest thing. The start to my days never go this way. I wasn't sure where to let my eyes rest. I didn't want to look at him. Instead I focused on my plate of eggs. They tasted a bit off, they were probably a little old. I felt a pinch of embarrassment. I had served this guy bad eggs.
What was I even saying? Serves him right for mooching food from me. He should be grateful that I even decided to give him anything. It was obvious that he had money. His wallet was thick with cash. He could probably head into the nearest restaurant and buy his own breakfast. So why didn't he? Did he just want to make me feel like an even bigger fool?
"So, do you have a name?" He asked after a while, his expression was different now. It was as if a mask of calmness covered his face. All signs of light-hearted conversation disappeared.
"Bella," For some reason I answered him.
"You are the street vender that sells the paintings, correct?"
That had taken me off guard. It's true, I flock to the busiest parts of the city to paint and sell my paintings if anyone is interested. When I first moved here, that's what I planned on doing to make the majority of my money. I had been naive. No one wants paintings from some nameless, no talent. I wasn't famous, or had any schooling when it came to art. My parents always loved the things I created, they praised my work. I thought I was good enough. But I see now, not everyone shares the same opinion.
Now, it's more of a hobby. I still offer to sell the things that I paint, but I removed the stress of making it my career.
I usually painted every other day, but the lack of money I was making made it impossible to buy painting supplies. I haven't been able to return to my paint brushes in about a month now.
"Yes, I mean - I used to." I admitted taking a sip out of my lukewarm coffee.
His eyes followed my movements for a moment, before he responded. "There is a painting that I'm interested in buying from you."
"Is that right, which one?"
"It's the one you have tucked away in your closet, the third painting in the stack."
"You were snooping through my closet?" I couldn't stop the sour look that came to my face.
I was beginning to think this guy was a complete weirdo. He was looking through my things, invading my privacy, demanding breakfast from me. I've never met someone like him. He had a lot of nerve. But he made no attempt to hide it. He openly admitted that he was looking through my things. But that didn't give him the right. These rich, business men, they always felt entitled to everything.
For a second, a flicker of a smirk crossed his face, before he went back to an expressionless mask. "Yes, I suppose I did, I apologize for that." His dark eyes were unreadable, and the way that he was sitting across from me, felt dominating. As if I was sitting in front of a man with authority. I had the urge to shift away from him. But I held my ground.
"Alright, well if you know where it is, go ahead and get it." I allowed. Anything to get some space between the two of us. I couldn't trust what this man was going to do. He seemed harmless before, but now I had an awful feeling rolling around in my gut. He had such a strong intensity. If he wanted, he could snap me like a swig. His muscles were impressive, even as I watched him rise from the table and turn his back to me, to head back to my bedroom, you could see his defining muscles of his back. He had the body of someone you would assume worked for the military. He never did mention his name, or really anything about himself. I was the one to give all my information.
Maybe that wasn't the smartest move.
It has always been in my nature to give people the benefit of doubt. Growing up, our little town didn't have much crime, it was filled with honest, hard working people. I was always so blissfully unaware of the fact that there are people in the world that aren't good. Moving to the city opened my eyes to a lot of that harsh reality. I've been robbed, on my way home. I've been stalked on a few occasions. There was even an incident where someone had put something in my drink at the bar. I woke up in a dumpster on the other side of town, battered, bruised, but still alive.
It was terrifying to live here. I had to be careful. I should have learned from my mistakes in the past. But here I was, with a complete stranger, who is a lot stronger than me and capable of killing me, or kidnapping me.
Under the table, I reached down with my plastic fork and clutched it tightly in my fist. I would be ready to strike, if he tried something. It might not do much damage, but if I aim for his eyes, maybe I could make a quick escape. My body tensed as he returned, a large painting in his hand.
The look on his face has changed again. He almost looked sad.
"Which one caught your eyes?" I asked, remaining cautious.
Wordlessly, he laid the painting down in front of me. It was a painting I remembered doing around New Year's Eve. Everyone had gathered around the main park. Liberty park was the place I mainly set up my station. Most people would pass through this park on they way to and from work, employees in the buildings surrounding the park would use this area for their lunch breaks. I noticed a nice looking couple. They had been seated by the fountain, sharing a meal together. They shared a few sweet kisses. Romance was a mystery to me, my parents weren't exactly the lovey dovey type. So when I saw public displays such as this, I had the urge to study it. I had painted the couple with pinpoint accuracy, each detail of their clothing, the expressions on their faces, even the smallest detail of the jewelry the woman wore.
"Do you know these people?" I wondered, watching his face. He gave me a short smile, although it didn't appear genuine. "I do, that is my best friend and my wife."
Instantly I felt guilt and pity for the guy. His wife was having an affair with his best friend? It couldn't get much worse than that. The plastic fork I had clenched in my hand, I now moved to place it back on the table. Slowly, I took a few more sips of my coffee, unsure of how to respond to this. I couldn't imagine how he was feeling at this moment.
"I'm sorry," Was all I could think to say.
He chuckled, without humor. "There is nothing you should be apologizing for. I have nothing but gratitude for you. I've been trying to figure out who the other man was for a long time. Until I saw this painting on display last week. It took me a while to find you. Everyone in the park that I questioned couldn't tell me anything about you. Not a name, or an address, they just knew that you frequented Bubba's Bar."
Great, so even in a huge city like this, people still noticed me, and worse yet, they thought I was a drunk.
"So, you came looking for me last night at the bar." I tried to recall anything that had happened last night, but all I could remember was sitting down at the bar. The bartender already knew what I was drinking and had three cocktails poured and waiting for me. Three drinks turned to six, I lost count quickly.
"Yeah, the bartender pointed you out. By the time I got to you, I'd say you were pretty trashed. But you were pleasant nonetheless. You bought me a few rounds of drinks, we spent the whole night together. I hadn't planned on things going in this direction... I mean waking up here in your bed. I promise I had no intentions to use you. I am truly sorry." He said, bowing his head for a second.
For some reason, I believed him. He sounded like a guy that was truly going through a hard time. Maybe we weren't so different. I was too quick to judge him.
"Don't worry about it, things happen, I'm sorry I can't remember any of it," I paused, chewing my lip as I debated with myself. It was none of my business. But my curiosity got the better of me. Hesitantly I moved my arm out from under the table, to expose the strange inscription tattooed on my forearm. "You wouldn't happen to know the story behind this tattoo, would you?
His eyes widened and his body instantly became tense. Motionless silence fell between us. His expression was unreadable. Anxiety was steadily increasing by the second.
"What is it," I demanded, on the edge of a meltdown.
My words seemed to unfreeze him. His dark eyes flickered up to meet my gaze. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea where that tattoo came from. I hadn't noticed it on you last night."
I groaned, withdrawing my arm back under the table. "Fantastic,"
The man sitting across from me appeared to be deeply in his thoughts as he became quiet again. He really was stunning, his features were so masculine and mysterious. The way his brows pulled together, suggested he was stressed about something. It was clear something was bothering him.
"You never did… mention your name." I couldn't bear the awkward silence.
A more natural smile came to his face now, his body seemed to relax a little. "Edward," He held his hand out to me.
I shook his hand, ignoring how strong and smooth his hand felt. He was flawless, it made it hard to believe that his wife would have been unfaithful. He looked to be successful, he did have a bit of an ego, but that goes hand in hand with good looking men. At least that's what I've come to learn.
So why did she do it? And with his best friend. There was more to this story, I was sure. But I wouldn't cross that line of privacy. I'm sure it wasn't anything he would want to share with a stranger.
"Well Edward, don't worry about paying for the painting. It's yours." I offered him a smile.
"I don't think so, let's not forget I owe you for a lot more than the painting. You treated me to a wonderful evening of drinking. Not to mention probably the best sex I've had in years. And even though the eggs were a bit old, you served me a nice warm breakfast." He spoke, pulling out his wallet to start pulling out neatly folded bills.
My face started to heat up at the mention of the sex. If it was as good as he made it sound, I wished that I could have at least remembered some of the details.
This was turning into one of the strangest mornings I've had. My head was still spinning as he handed me a thick stack of bills. I didn't know the sum, but I could already tell that he was giving me more than I could ever deserve.
"I couldn't take all this, don't be ridiculous," I said, hastily trying to hand it back to him.
He quickly tucked his wallet back in his pocket. "It's nothing, this is just my wife's monthly spending money. She isn't getting a dime of my paycheck anymore. Today is the day I'm handing over the divorce papers, along with this painting. Think of this as a thank you. You have saved me a lifetime full of misery."
"It just doesn't seem right, I mean... I didn't do anything to really deserve this." I said, staring at the huge stack of bills.
"Well then, this money I'm giving you, will come with conditions." He said as he stood up, finally putting his nice dress shirt on and gathering his things.
"What are the conditions?"
"This money can't be used for trips to the bar. Buy some groceries, or ways to improve your living conditions here." He shrugged his shoulders with an easy smile.
He turned his back to start heading for the door. I got up from my seat and followed slowly behind him. He paused at the door for just a moment, glancing back at me, his eyes darted to the tattoo on my arm for just a second, before letting our eyes meet. "And of course, use it to help that sick sister of yours. I hope this helps."
My heart squeezed in my chest as I felt my eyes getting watery. I held back my raw emotions under a mask of surprise. "You know about that too,"
"You mentioned it a few times last night, I was beginning to think that's why you looked so sad at the bar last night. Anyway, I'll see you around Bella."
With that, he pulled open the door with a low creak and made his way out into the hallway. I could only stand there. Overwhelmed by emotion. He didn't have to do this. He didn't have to be... so kind to me. I've never run into anyone in this city that gave a damn about other people's problems. It touched me. Now that he wasn't here, I let a few tears slid down my cheeks; that were still warm.
Quietly, I flipped through the bills counting silently in my head. Five thousand. No, that couldn't be right. I counted again. And again. I couldn't believe it.
Who carries that kind of money on them? Why would he just give this to me? For nothing? He must have made a mistake. I knew he was probably wealthy, but I didn't think he was that well off. If I ever saw him again, I would be sure to thank him. Maybe I'll be able to offer him a little better than an old scrambled egg.
As things began to register in my mind, I quickly made my way back into the kitchen to the landline. I had to call my mother. I couldn't wait to tell her that I was able to save up enough for Ana's chemotherapy treatment this month. My hands trembled as I dialed her number. It rang for a brief moment, until uncle Charlie's voice sounded.
"Swan residence," He responded in his usual gruff tone.
"Hey uncle Charlie, it's Bella." I couldn't contain the excitement leaking through my voice.
"Oh, lil Bell, it's good to hear from you, it's been a while. How is the big city treating you? Is the scooter still holding up?"
"Things have been great, and yeah the scooter is fine. I was hoping to talk with mom, is she around?"
"Sure, sure let me go get her. It's really good to hear from you kid." He added, before I heard the phone getting set down. I waited, impatiently. It was so hard to not just blurt it out. I just hoped my mother was still doing okay. She has been wrestling with a drinking problem for a few years now. I worried about her. But with uncle Charlie around to watch her and Ana, I felt confident he could keep the farm in order, until I could come home.
On the other end of the phone, I heard some shuffling before my mother answered, in her usual tired voice.
"Bell, it's about time you called, I've been a worried wreck." She had a slight southern accent. It was a common thing in our little home town, at least the older residents all had a slight drawl.
"I know, I'm sorry, I've been really busy lately, but I'm calling with some really good news." I said, slowly taking a few steps back and forth to the length of the phone cord.
"Is that right, well don't leave me in suspense."
"I got the money, I'll be able to send you the full amount of Ana's treatment and a little extra to help you guys out for the month."
The other end of the phone was quiet for a moment. All I could hear was her breathing. Anxiety pinched at me. Why wasn't she responding? Was I too late? Was something wrong with Ana?
"Well, that's wonderful dear, it really is. But I'm afraid some things have changed. We took a trip into town with Ana the other day to the doctors…" She paused again and another long stretch of silence fell between us.
"And what did they say?" My heart was racing in my chest. A suffocating feeling struck me. I took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm myself. But my mind was already skipping to the worst possible thing.
"The cancer isn't responding to the medications that we have been giving her. They believe she will need several rounds of chemotherapy, more than they initially thought and they say the best route will be surgery, to remove both of her breasts." I could hear my mother begin to weep.
The sounds of her in pain were unbearable to hear. Tears trickled down my cheeks, but I remained silent. I waited, helplessly listening to her cry. I wanted nothing more than to be home. I wanted to hug her tightly and tell her everything would be okay. When she went silent again, I searched for my voice.
"If we can keep up with the payments with the medication, how long do we have…" The words trembled off my lips, almost too quiet to be audible.
"Bella, the new medication will cost three thousand dollars a month. I'm sorry, but that's just not possible," She sounded just as quiet. "Just come home, and spend the remaining time with your sister. Ana will understand."
"No mom, there is more I can do here, have some faith in me. I have over five grand right now. I'm sure I can keep up with the payments." I urged.
My mother sighed heavily, sounding as if she was about to snap. She always had a quick temper. So, I was surprised to hear her tone stay soft. "Even if you could keep up with the payments, Ana needs to get surgery for a mastectomy. The doctors said if the surgery goes smoothly, the price of it would be nearly forty thousand."
I felt my jaw drop. My hope was dwindling, but I held on tightly. I knew I was being overly optimistic, or more accurately, unrealistic. But I put my mind to this, I wouldn't give up. I would just have to work five times as hard. Only I could make this happen. I just needed to know how long I have.
"How long does she have mom, with just the medication?"
"It will depend on how this new medication will respond to the cancer. If it works, they said she would most likely have at least five years. But if the medication doesn't work, there is no telling how long she could survive this."
Five years. That would have to be enough time. It would be very challenging. I would have to make at least three grand a month just for the medications and have a good amount to save for the surgery. I honestly didn't know if it was possible, but I could never live with myself if I didn't try. I stood by and did nothing when this was happening with my father. There was nothing I could do to help him. Never again. I had to get serious. No more wasting my money.
"I can do it mom, don't give up. I promise. I'll send you the money for the medications. Give me five years." I said firmly. I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince myself more or her at this point.
"Bella, I just don't see how it's possible," My mother said with some heat behind her words. She paused for a short length of time, before I heard her sigh. "You have been in Boswell for about a year now and you have been struggling to send in the money for the old medications." It sounded like she was beginning to calm down again.
"I got a new job, it pays much better, the payments shouldn't be a problem." I lied smoothly.
In truth, I have the same dead end, waitressing job I lucked into when I first moved here. Of course, I was constantly looking for something better, but I lacked any formal schooling, no college degree, no experience. Finding places willing to hire me was next to impossible. But I would figure that out later.
"Alright, fine, we will continue with the medications for now. But at her next appointment, if these medications aren't working, that's it. We are done. And you have to come home."
"You have a deal, please give uncle Charlie the go ahead to make the drive up to get the money." I said, curling my fingers around the phone cord.
"Okay sweetheart, I'll send groceries along with him for you. We don't have much, but it should help you out." She relented.
"You don't have to do that,"
"Isabella Marie, enough, I'm your mother, I can do this much for my kid. Let me help you." She snipped at me.
I almost laughed at her growing annoyance. She hasn't changed at all. It was a relief. I'm assuming that she was leaving the alcohol alone. I loved the woman, but when she drank, she was quite mean. It would have been impossible to even talk with her.
"Alright, but don't overdo it mom, I don't need much. You and Ana will need it more than me."
She snorted on the other end of the phone. "You are so much like your father. You better call more often. If you want to be helpful, don't worry your mother to death. Be safe. I love you."
"I will, love you too."
With that, we both hung up. Conversations with her usually went this way. It always left me exhausted and more stressed than I was before. I would need a minute to refocus myself. I thought things were hard before, but now it will be really hard. I don't even know how I would manage this.
I quickly retrieved a pen and paper out of one of the drawers in the kitchen and began doing the math. I had to make three grand a month for the medication, and if I need to make forty grand in the next five years, I'd have to make an additional six hundred a month, give or take. It was possible. I just need to make the monthly payments. Why did it sound so easy? I knew it wouldn't be. I was lucky to make enough money for rent, with just my waitress job and the meager cash I got from selling my paintings. I didn't even factor in my rent, utilities and groceries.
My head was aching already. Let's see, rent and utilities were six hundred and seventy five dollars and I tried to spend no more than fifty bucks a month on groceries. I had my work cut out for me.
I was supposed to be off today, but there was no way I could just sit around. I couldn't afford to. I had a staggering amount of money to make. Reaching back into the drawer I got out three envelopes and scribbled on them. One labeled Ana's medication, the other Ana's surgery and the last, bills and groceries. This was the only way I could keep all the money in order. I didn't have a bank account, this was just how my mother always kept the money. It was simplistic. Although, if someone were to break into my apartment… that money would be gone. I would need to find a place to keep these envelopes. I'll save that for later, for now I just put them in the kitchen drawer.
There was no time to waste. Immediately I went back to the phone and dialed the phone number for my work. It rang a few times, before the sound of my manager answered, in his usual annoyed tone. But the mention of me offering to come in to work today made him joyous. I don't think I've ever heard him so grateful and I especially never heard him thank any of his employees. So it was a bit of a shock when he did thank me.
Apparently a few girls had called off for their shift this morning, leaving the diner pretty short staffed. It was a common occurrence at the diner. Billy, my manager, always hired young girls, mostly ones that were just working there part-time, while they attended the Boswell community college. They weren't reliable and called off often, but Billy never turned them down. He was usually a pretty sour guy, but he had a good heart. In many ways he reminded me of my father.
It didn't take long for me to get ready, I quickly dashed out of the kitchen and back to my bedroom, retrieving the usual outfit I would wear to work. It was the nicest pair of clothes I had. The only pair of jeans I owned that weren't stained or had holes in it and a t-shirt with the diner's logo on the front. I brushed my hair back the best I could manage into a ponytail. My hair was getting really long, and even when it was pulled up like this, it reached to the middle of my back. When I make the trip to visit home, I would ask my mother to cut it.
There was some knocking now at my door. I ignored it while I continued getting ready. I grabbed my purse from the living room, double checked that the keys for my scooter were still in there and my wallet. The knocking got louder and an impatient sigh could be heard from outside the door. I had a feeling it was Rosalie, the landlord of this building. Probably here to receive the rent that I failed to give her on time this month. Quickly I divided out the money I owed her from the large stack of bills that Edward gave me. The rest, I just put into my wallet. I would keep this money on me, until I find a hiding place for it in the apartment.
"I know you are in there, Miss Swan," I heard her call out on the other side of the door. She sounded irritated, although that's how she usually was with me. I couldn't blame her, I haven't exactly been the best tenant with my payments. I was fortunate on many occasions that she didn't evict me. But I knew her patience was just about up with me.
Taking a deep breath, I moved to open the door. With some force, I smiled widely at her. "Oh, good morning Rosalie, what brings you here?" I played dumb.
Rosalie was a middle-aged woman, going through her second divorce at this time. She was really tall, almost a full foot taller than me. Her honey blonde hair was always pulled up into a tight bun on the top of her head, but a few strands were always left out around her slightly wrinkled face. Her icy blue eyes leered at me from behind her bifocals. Her outfits were always expensive-looking, flashy and vibrant. There were rings on every finger, and fine jewelry clung to both wrists and around her neck. She was wealthy and wanted the world to know it.
"I don't suppose you have rent for me?" She shifted her hips as she folded her arms across her chest. I could see the anger growing in her features. She had a short fuse, quick to jump to conclusions and very honest. If she had something rude to say, she didn't hold it back.
"Actually I do, I was just on my way to drop it off." I held a smile on my face as I held the cash out to her.
She ripped the cash from my hands and counted it out a few times, before narrowing her eyes at me. "This is the third month in a row that rent has been late. I understand this is a difficult city to make money in and you have a lot of personal things going on back home, but this isn't acceptable. You have to learn to prioritize yourself better."
I knew this was coming. Almost every time I communicated with this woman, she would chew me out. But like I said, I didn't blame her.
"I understand, I will do better from now on."
My words didn't seem to affect her. "I've heard that from you before. I've been understanding of your situation for a while now, but at the end of the day, you are putting my finances at risk. If you don't pay me on time, that means I can't pay my bills on time. So, from now on, if you are going to make late payments, I'm going to start charging an extra fifty dollars, for every day it's late."
Ouch. She must be really pissed today. I'm not sure what she was going through, other than the divorce, but it was clear that she wasn't putting up with anyone's crap today.
"I hear you loud and clear, you won't have any more issues from me." I nodded, letting my fake smile slide from my face. I didn't longer had the energy to hide my distaste.
"For your sake, I hope so," She now glanced at my outfit, unimpressed. "Heading to work on your day off?"
Of course the old hag knew my work schedule, she put her nose in everyone's business. I guess that comes with the job of being the landlord. But that didn't mean that I appreciated it.
"Yeah, I need the money."
She rolled her eyes openly. "Clearly, well at least you are putting in some effort." Turning on her heels she began to walk down the hallway.
As soon as she was out of sight, I let out an annoyed sigh. Now that she wasted up some of my time I would have to rush. I locked my apartment door and went in the opposite direction. It appeared that she was heading to more apartments on my floor, probably to give them the same speech she just gave me.
The hallway had an odd smell, I never could determine what it was and the wooden floors were always sticky. Even now I could hear my sneakers stick with each step. Just like my apartment, the rest of the building was very dated. The wallpaper was dark and old, not in the best condition. There were odd stains and a few distinct holes in the walls, created from tenants of the past, with clear anger issues.
In my opinion this place was a dump, which was why this place was the cheapest option for housing. Which meant, there were a lot of undesirable people living here. It wasn't the safest place to live, but it was a roof over my head. It would have to do for the time being. I didn't have any options and I probably never would.
After a sharp turn to the left, I made it to the stairs. I was on the third floor, so I had a bit of a walk to go, before I reached the parking lot. The stairs were a bit of a risk at times as well. There were a few broken steps to watch out for, but after a year of climbing them I knew the best route. It only took me a minute or so to reach the bottom.
I waved to Pete, the elderly man that sat behind the desk in the lobby. He was there every day, bright and early. Rosalie hired him a few months back, to watch the door and answer the phones. He also was appointed our on site security. He was very kind. I often stopped to chat with him, but I was in a hurry today.
"Have a good morning Bella." He responded with a wave as well. His smile was warm and inviting. I instantly felt guilty for not taking time to stop and talk with him. Maybe I'd bring him a little treat from the diner when I got back.
Out into the parking lot I headed for my scooter. It was probably the worst looking vehicle in the lot. But it got the job done… most of the time. It's as reliable as a junk yard scooter could be.
I called her, old blue - although it was hard to tell if the scooter was blue or green, the paint had faded pretty badly. The mirrors were just taped onto the handles with duct tape. But when I turned it on, it sparked to life in a few delayed seconds. What more could I ask for?
The diner wasn't too far away, only a few blocks, I could easily walk the distance, but driving was much quicker and safer. Walking the streets of Boswell was a risk. Thieves lined the streets at all hours of the day and night, especially in the part of the city I was traveling in.
The traffic was terrible, as it usually was on an early Monday morning. Cars were blowing past me, honking their horns like wild idiots. The wind was blowing in my face as I tried to focus on the lanes of traffic. Hundreds of people were out today, walking down the streets. Large crowds all collected by the crosswalks, waiting for the light to change, so they could walk across the roads. Most people were in casual clothing or business attire. Men holding briefcases and women in pretty dresses. I stood out from the crowds, but I didn't let it bother me. I was comfortable in my own skin. I didn't need to change myself to fit in here. This city would not become my permanent home.
Once I passed Liberty park, I was only seconds from pulling into the diner. I took one fast sweep of the park. A few people jogging and a few people walking their dogs. The park was a bit more empty than usual. Maybe I could take my lunch break there for the day. Dale's Diner was half a block from the park, which was an easy enough walk.
I pulled into the parking lot of the diner, taking note of all the cars parked here. It was the breakfast rush, and looked to be busier than ever. My stomach tightened in a knot of anxiety as I turned the scooter off. Already, I was regretting that choice to come in. This was going to be hell. It's not that I hated my job… but I could think of a million better things I could be doing. My stress levels were climbing with each step closer to the doors. People were beginning to form a line nearly out in the parking lot. Now I understood why Billy was so thankful. They were drowning.
Inside the building was loud, everyone in line was chatting, some in decent moods and others looking impatient. Kids were running around, screaming and messing around. With the sheer number of people the heat was drastically higher here than outside. I could already feel myself start to sweat.
Billy met me at the doors as I walked inside, he handed me all my gear hastily. His face was drenched in sweat and his hands trembled. "I have to get back in the kitchen, it's just you and two other girls until noon, so get moving." He gave me a thumbs up and a weak grin. He was already exhausted and the diner had only been open for about two hours.
"Yes sir," I nodded.
I wasn't unfamiliar with hard work. I was raised on a farm. I've worked under the blazing sun for hours, I did it all, mowing, planting crops, tending the animals. But working in the city was a whole new experience. It wasn't the physical work that was strenuous, it was dealing with the public. I could be the best waitress here, fast, dependable and precise, but that didn't matter if my social skills were lacking. It took me a really long time to get the hang of customer service. I suffered with pretty crappy tips, until I learned the tricks to good waitressing.
Smile. Compliment them. Build up rapport. Make them feel welcome and if they make their requests known, make them feel they are a priority. As long as I did that, I would make decent tips.
So that's what I did. I kept up the pace and worked my ass off to keep these patrons happy. I was bubbly, charming and even cracked some old cheesy jokes for the old timers that stopped in. I took orders, refilled drinks and when families with kids were seated in my sections, I passed out crayons and things to color on. When everything in my section was running smoothly, I helped out the other girls as best as I could. We had excellent teamwork, at least with the one girl it was alright.
She was relatively new here and this had been her first breakfast rush. She continuously ran to me with questions and concerns. But with a bit of guidance she was beginning to get a handle on things. I couldn't recall her name, even though she had reminded me of it a few times today so far.
Opposite could be said for the other girl. I didn't know her name either, but she had been working here since before I started. She was falling behind a bit, but refused for any help from either of us. In fact, it only seemed to offend her when help was offered. She was probably close to her forties and usually was late coming in to work. She took a lot of smoke breaks. But Billy never reprimanded her. At times, I've heard others whispering about her. Probably just dumb gossip, but the word around the diner was that she was sleeping with Billy. That's why she could get away with everything. I didn't know if it was true and didn't care.
I didn't like her. Not many of us did.
Once noon came around, four additional workers showed up to help out, just in time for the lunch rush. Billy allowed me to take a thirty minute lunch break once they showed up. I was relieved to get some time to myself. My face was achy from all the smiling. As soon as I walked outside of the diner I felt my shoulders slump in exhaustion, just from the metal strain.
I began to walk towards the park, when a voice from behind me got my attention. I turned slightly behind me, to see that girl I had been helping all day came practically skipping over to me. She wore an animated smile as she pushed her huge glasses back from the tip of her nose.
"Hey, I didn't have a chance to thank you for all the help. I wasn't sure I was going to make it through that mess." She shyly shifted her oversized top back to cover her exposed bra strap.
"You did great, have more confidence. I barely helped at all." I waved her off with a small smile.
Her laugh was light and airy, as if she was out of breath. With a nervous twitch, she ran her hand through her cropped brown curls at the top of her head. "I was just wondering, if you wanted to have lunch… with me." Her face instantly began to get red - when my response to my raised brow.
"I was just going to head to the park and relax, I didn't bring an actual lunch with me today."
"I could buy you some lunch if you want, I'd really like to thank you for what you did." She said quickly.
I felt bad for turning down her offer, but I didn't want or need anyone to buy food for me. It just didn't feel right. I wanted to be independent. As nice as her comment was, it slightly annoyed me. Did she pity me? Did she think I couldn't afford to buy my own food? I just didn't want to spend money on whims. Of course she didn't know that.
"That's alright, I'll pass on that. Thanks anyway." I said as I turned back around and started off towards the park. I was relieved that she didn't follow me. I heard her call out a goodbye to me. I lifted my hand up, but didn't turn back around. I just wanted some peace. It's only been a few hours of work, but I needed time away. It was a strain to hold a fake smile and act so peppy. It wasn't who I was. Honestly, I had a pretty dark outlook on life in general. I never used to be that way.
If I was the same girl I was when I was living at home, I probably would have had lunch with the girl and probably become her friend. She seemed nice enough and she was around my age. But that wasn't me. Not anymore. I've been burned too many times over this past year. I didn't trust people. I didn't want to open up and invite anyone into my life. I didn't have time for it. It would just distract me from my goals. Maybe there would be time for all that trivial stuff, after Ana beats this cancer. For now, that's all I would focus on. I haven't even dated anyone since moving here. All it's been is messy one night stands, that I usually don't even remember. That would be fine. For now.
The thought of one night stands made me think of Edward. My heart clenched in my chest. He was a very kind person, for giving me all that money. It was thanks to him, Ana wouldn't have to worry this month. The image of his dark eyes and muscular body entered my mind, sending a chill down my spine. I wonder what he was up to today? I mean other than ending things with his wife. It really wasn't my business. I doubt I would ever see him again. I should just forget about him.
As I entered the park, I decided to sit down on the fountain. There were a bit more people here now, it appeared to mostly be office workers, having their lunches. They all stayed to themselves. None of them even made any attempt at conversation as I sat down. They glanced at me with disgust, but mostly just ignored my presence. I'm sure I looked like a mess. I was coated in sweat, food and in the last hour, I had been cleaning up puke from a child that got sick at the table.
I tried to not feel self conscious about my appearance and just focus on what was going on around me. There was quiet chattering and the sounds of cars, continuously flying past. A hard gust of wind blew through the park, tossling my hair into my face. A sweet aroma was lingering in the air from the food stand that was set up on the other side of the park. My stomach grumbled and bubbled uncomfortably.
Should I get something to eat? No. I could wait. There most likely would be some left over diner food I can take home. There usually was. The diner was my main source of food. Billy gave all employees discounts on meals and access to any expired produce and meats for free. He was a really generous man. He didn't have to do that, but he truly did care for his workers, even though his demeanor was a bit rough.
The sun was blinding today, I should have put on sunscreen, but I was in too much of a hurry to get into work. I could feel my skin getting warm on my arms. It probably was a bad idea to sit in the park today. I would probably get a sunburn. But I didn't have the energy to move. Instead, I reached down and let my hand slip into the water of the fountain. It was nice and cold, I had the urge to kick my shoes off and dip my toes in. It was something I've done in the past, but apparently that was off-putting to the public. People thought I was weird, or repulsive. But I was raised in the countryside, if we were hot, we went to the lake and stuck our toes in the water. I guess they didn't do that here… at least not at the park fountain. We came from different worlds.
This was my favorite spot in the whole city. There was so much plantlife and greenery here. It had the earthy smells of being out in nature, no where else in the city was like this. Vibrant flowers decorated the area in an array of roses, marigolds and other common summertime flowers. Sometimes you could catch the sight of some butterflies floating around. Or birds landing by the fountain for a drink.
But it wasn't quite the same as the farmlands back home. The grass here is a rich, flawless green, with no signs of any weeds or decay. The trees and bushes were all planted in a deliberate way, all perfectly lined up, neatly trimmed and hedged. Not like back home, where things grew in random places, along with weeds and tall grasses. Let's not forget the constant swarm of insects that hung around.
But it was still always a comfort to come here. It was my secret spot to escape from this industrial circus.
After a while, of just sitting here, I glanced over to the large clock tower that sat just at the edge of the park. Fifteen more minutes. My break was dwindling away quicker than I wanted. My shift would end in another three hours, but if Billy permitted I would stay over. Knowing him, he wouldn't object. We were always in need of more staff. But even with overtime, I knew it wasn't going to be enough to keep up with the payments for Ana's medication, or my rent. I had to look for another job, something that would make a bit more money. Since the only money we make at the diner is what we are given in tips, it was never consistent on how much I would earn on a given day. It would just depend on how busy we would get. Today was considered a busy day, so in the three hours I've been working I made one hundred dollars in tips. Which wasn't bad at all, but it rarely gets this busy. Usually I earn about that much in a full eight hour shift.
I would have to start going around and filling out applications. I suppose I could do that once I finished up at work. It was going to be a long day.
My lunch break came to an end and reluctantly I planted a cheerful smile on my face and headed back into the pits of hell. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had been this morning, now that we had extra staff on board, but on the down side, there was more staff which meant I would have less opportunities to earn tips. I would be taking care of a lot less tables. Still, earning something was better than sitting around at home. Billy allowed me to stay over to help with the dinner rush as well, but urged me to go ahead home once seven o'clock hit.
In his words, he said that I was beginning to look like I was about to fall over dead. He thanked me a few more times as I was gathering my things to leave for the day. To my surprise, he already had a paper bag full of expired produce to hand over to me. The look on his face filled me with a pinch of embarrassment. I could see the concern and pity on his expression as he walked me to the door of the diner. I hated that look. Billy wasn't completely aware of my situation, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that I was struggling, even though I did my best to hide it. I didn't want anyone's pity. I didn't want anyone's hand-outs or charity. But I wasn't about to refuse the free food. I would swallow my pride for now and just keep working at it. Someday I would pay him back for his kindness.
On the ride back to the apartment, the sun was still shining, although the temperatures had cooled down a lot. The sky was filled with pastel orange and faint red hues. The sun would begin to descend soon.
My legs and feet were aching, I couldn't wait to finally sit down and get something to eat. But I was dreading the three flights of stairs up to my apartment. I felt even worse when I realized that I had forgotten to grab Pete a treat from the diner. Maybe Billy put something in this produce bag that I could give the old man. I glanced at the bag, skillfully tied to the back of the scooter as I pulled into my usual parking spot. Thankfully the bag survived my driving. It doesn't look like anything fell out. I dug around in the bag, until I found a blueberry muffin. It looked like it got a little flattened, but it didn't have any mold on it and was still relatively soft. This would be alright to give him.
I didn't waste any time getting my things and going into the building. It wasn't safe to linger around this area. Especially with a bag full of food. Poverty was at an all time high in my area and people were beginning to act out of desperation. As terrifying as that was, I understood it. I've gone countless days at a time, very hungry, with nothing to eat. If it hadn't been for Billy, I'm sure I would have starved to death by now.
As I walked into the lobby, I instantly noticed Pete, still posted at the front desk, he had a scarf slung around his shoulders and a mug of what appeared to be coffee pressed between his wrinkled hands. As I approached, his somber expression lightened into a warm smile.
"That was a long day of work, wasn't it?" He spoke casually.
"You have know idea, but I made sure to bring something back for you." I said holding out the muffin.
His eyes twinkled as he shakily took the muffin from my hands. "You didn't have to do that."
"It's not a big deal, my boss just gave me some extra groceries and you always work so hard, I thought you wouldn't mind a little something."
He took a bite out of it and let out a low groan. "Delicious, I appreciate it," It didn't take him long to eat the muffin, he even went as far as licking some of the crumbs off the wrapper. It must have been pretty good. Or, this was the first thing he ate today. Pete wasn't well off financially either. No one knew how bad off he was, he kept his life private, but it wasn't hard to notice the signs. He wore the same clothes every day and he was always so thin - almost sickly in appearance. "So, what's new with you?"
I paused, deliberating on how much I was willing to talk about today. I would be sure not to mention the meeting with Edward. And I wasn't quite sure I was ready to talk about the extraordinary amount of money I would now have to make to help my sister out. It's best to keep things casual. I didn't want to make the old man worry too much.
"Well, actually I'm trying to find a new job."
"You don't say, isn't Dale's diner paying you well enough?"
"Not even close. And now that Rosalie is getting more strict with the rent, I'll need to find something soon. I can't afford to get evicted."
"She is a miserable witch, isn't she," He snorted as he took a few sips from his coffee. "But I did hear that she is looking to hire someone to do some cleaning around the building. She was going to add that to my duties, but I just told her straight out, at my ripe old age, I just can't climb these steps and move around like I used to."
It was mind-boggling that Rosalie would actually ask Pete to clean as well. It didn't take a genius to see that he wasn't exactly in the best shape for physically demanding jobs.
"I don't know, she isn't too fond of me, but if you're willing to ask her about it, it's worth a shot." I nodded slightly.
Pete grinned a bit, revealing three of four teeth. "No problem kid."
It was always nice talking with Pete, he was a very welcomed face to come home to. He was easy to talk with and gave some of the best advice on life. A lot of other people that lived in this building avoided him as much as possible, purely because he was old and pretty talkative. But I enjoyed our chats. We talked for a short while, before we said goodnight. His shift was just about over, Rosalie's ex husband Roy would be in soon to take over for him. I didn't want to run into him, so I quickly made my way up the old creaky steps.
Rosalie's husband was a loud, obnoxious drunk. The fact that he was the night shift guard of this building was laughable. I would have felt safer with Pete watching over the building. Roy was about as useful as a stick and probably about as smart as one. He always made me very uncomfortable, especially when he would stop by my apartment to pick up rent. He would always make lewd comments, and stare at me, as if I was some kind of piece of meat. I couldn't count the times he offered to waiver my rent, if I slept with him. Disgusting. But apparently a few tenants took him up on that offer. Which was why Rosalie was in the middle of a divorce. She caught wind of this fast, gossip and rumors spread quickly in this building.
My legs seemed to ache more with each step and my body just kept feeling heavier. I wasn't used to working for ten straight hours and I really didn't have the best shoes. I've had the same black sneakers since high school, they weren't comfortable at all, but they got the job done.
I breathed out a sigh of relief as I made it to my apartment, my keys jingled a bit as I tried to find the lock on the door. The hallway lights always turned off at six. It was just a way for Rosalie to save money on the electric bill. As ridiculous as it sounded, I slightly understood. There is nothing wrong with being thrifty, but there are just some expenses that you can't get away with going cheap on. The hallway lighting should be one of those things.
Once I finally managed to hit the keyhole, I didn't hesitate to walk inside and slam the door shut behind me. The apartment directly above me was playing some kind of rock music that I'm sure the whole building could hear. It sounded like whoever was up there was dancing around. The stomping and thudding would surely get on my nerves tonight. I prayed that they would go to bed early. But I knew I would be hearing this all night.
I slung my shoes off right in front of the door and tossed my purse to the couch. My first instinct was to get these nasty clothes off. I smell terribly from work. A nice hot shower will melt away the lines of stress that had begun sinking into a hard line across my forehead. I let my clothes slide down right at my feet and walked barefoot, through the shag carpeting of the living room. I couldn't get into the bathroom fast enough, I didn't even bother grabbing a towel. I blasted the hot water and practically leaped inside.
Pure bliss. That was the only way I could describe it. I let today's troubles wash away. By the time I was finished, the entire bathroom was humid and my mirror was steamed up to the point I couldn't see my reflection. I was exhausted, I really didn't feel like drying off, so I just put my robe on, wrapped my hair in a towel and crawled into bed. I rolled myself deeply into my sheets, burying my face into my pillow. There was just the slightest scent lingering on the sheets - something sweet and earthy. Perhaps the smell of last night's guest.
The image of Edward was invading my thoughts, as I began to fall asleep.
If you enjoyed this read, please let me know! Thanks for taking the time to read! I know this was a long-winded chapter. So congrats for making it to the end of this first chapter.