Day One

The first day.

I gaped around me, wondering if this was the right thing to be doing. I’d only been at the job for a month or two. It’s not like I hadn’t tried my best or done what I was told. But things just weren’t working out for me here. I’d spoken with the doctor before and he understood. As much as I needed the job and security of having something to do, it wasn’t for me.

I walked out to my car, cutting through the early morning haze. I got in, turned the air on and pulled onto the main road.

The chiropractor’s office hadn’t been a bad first “real” job. It’d been really great! Learning about what when on, how things operated, what went where and what the huge machine was for �" the IDD machine, for fixing people’s backs. I’d even learned how to develop x-rays in a dark room. I’d spent the better part of the last two months behind those doors, getting to know Jan, the charming, bubbly, second-in-command Jan; Shannon, a tiny massage therapist with a kick; Leia, who’d been an assistant for the better part of five years, and then there was the doctor. Doctor Booth had started this practice about fifteen years before. It was still a growing business, but there were many people who went in to see him on a regular basis. In those first few years his business had spread and grown at a great rate.

I knew his office backwards and forwards now, but it just wasn’t fun to be there anymore. The whole “honeymoon” stage of working at a doctor’s office had quickly wore itself out. I didn’t know how I’d pay the bills, but I was safe knowing that I’d parted with the last job with good remarks. I’d bought some scrubs for the job �" which would make excellent pajamas and future costumes, should the desire ever come. I hadn’t had a bad time, but I was restless, ready to move on already.

Driving through traffic I thought over everything I’d learned from Jan about how to run a front office.

“Right, so when a patient comes in for just a basic visit, you take out this sheet here and a payment sheet. Write their name on the top and stamp the date there. On the payment sheet you’ll need to indicate which payment play they’re using, if any, or if they’re a motor vehicle accident case. If they’re coming in for an IDD treatment, then you’ll take out this form here, and fill out the necessary information. Make sure you stamp the date on both sheets and check mark the number of visit this is for them. If they’re a new patient coming in then ask if they already printed out the forms from the website. If they have then you’ll take the forms, put them on a clipboard and fill out a fee ship, along with these two sheets here. If they haven’t filled them out yet, it’s no biggie, just take out the new patient forms and ask them to fill them out. Also, you’ll need to ask for their insurance card and their drivers’ license. You’ll need to make copies of both sides before returning them.”

The only reason I’d gotten the job there was due to missing rehearsal for a community show I was doing. I was out walking with a friend when I’d realized my blunder. Too late to go I kept walking. We’d run into the doctor, who she was seeing for athletic injuries. He’d joined out walk and I’d gotten a job.

I parked close to the city’s park and got out, taking my bag and lunch with me. The fresh air would be good for me, give me some time to sort through the previous work.

I walked into the lush green area, marveling that it was almost as big as the city. (Ok, that’s not really true, but it’s what all the advertisements said. In reality, it was almost three-quarters the size of the city.)

I took the main path and headed deep into the center. I watched mothers pushing strollers; mothers with other mothers out for a jog; nannies taking care of kids too young to be in pre-k and the assorted vendors prowling around in search of their next customer. I managed to bypass them all and headed up a hill. There was an alcove with a bench that was well away from the chatter and bustle that were the city’s main thrive. I nestled on the bench and pulled out my binder. That first week kept playing itself out in my head and I couldn’t concentrate though.

After all of the confusing terms I was supposed to memorize (which hadn’t happened), I’d realized why I’d been hired so quickly. Jan was going on a week-long vacation and Leia and Shannon didn’t know how to run the full front desk. They’d never been shown how to use the MediSoft program to input payments and print off receipts. That first week of training had been ruthless and almost unmerciful. It had been a gruesome feat, but somehow I’d managed it.

Doctor Booth had given me a long tour of the offices, back rooms and the storage units. He explained how the different machines were used and how to use them. I’d gotten through it all well enough, with just the basics. I’d gotten used to wearing the scrubs and coming in early. The second week I’d been there, when Jan finally returned, I was in the back, learning the full extent of how to assist patients. It had taken me another week just to get used to seeing that much exposed skin in one place. It made me uncomfortable, but I’d dealt with. A job was a job, after all.

I jotted some notes down on a fresh page. I’d have to find another job �" soon. My little townhouse wouldn’t pay for itself. I had to make ends-meet and bills to pay.

And a new little kitten to keep fed.

Shaking my head I wondered what else I could do. I had a degree in Fine Arts: specifically theatre. I hadn’t thought much about anything for a while, at least not until I’d found and lost so many jobs. Somehow I just couldn’t keep anything going around here. Fast food was out of the question, retail just plain sucked (too much competition and “goals to reach”), and now the one office job I’d had that would have fixed everything had fallen completely through the floor and into China.

“Back to the rust ole drawing board,” I wrote down the names of places around town where I knew I’d fit right in if I was hired.

If: that one blasted two-letter word that seems to knock you out in less than a breath.

Leaning back on the bench I rolled my shoulders, trying to get the kink out from between my shoulder blades. I rolled my neck a little, hearing it creak a bit.

“Alright Map, time to find something that you’re good at. Something that you can excel at, something that will pay the bills and finance your theatre-vice,” I looked over at the city-line. “Gotta find something.”

The city line offered nothing by way of an idea. Sighing I sat back, dumping my binder on the bench beside me.  I closed my eyes, trying to think of something.

“Let’s work this out methodically, shall we: firstly there are tons of other office buildings around here. Tons of places to work in a city this big; it shouldn’t be too hard to find something that I’m able to do. I’ll have to park in the main city and just beat-feet it around. First, I have to print off some new resumes to turn in. Then I’ll have to bother about going online to fill out the applications �" or not. This is going to require decent walking shoes that also make a good impression. I could go today and see what the place has to offer.” I shook my head, “It really suck being in the city only a few months and not know where everything is yet.”

I went over my list again and crossed a few things off. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this line of planning.

Dumping my binder back in my bag I got up and headed back through the park. I walked to the North side and walked down the street for a few blocks. Each place I went into wasn’t hiring, or had just finished. It was a depressing feat to go through. The only thing I had going for me was the fancy outfit I had on: a dark blue button down shirt with an open black vest, black slacks and ballet flats. My hair was up in a messy bun, kept back with an assortment of pins, twisties and a dash of hair spray. I drama mask necklace was on underneath my shirt and my CTR ring was on my left pointer finger. I’d dressed my best for my last day.

“Yeah, my last funeral,” I sat down at a table outside a café. I tried not to give myself a pity party, but it happened anyway.

“What can I get ya?”

I flipped open a menu and said the first good thing that caught my eye, “A piece of peach pie, a la mode.”

“Is that is?”

I nodded, flipping the menu back down on the table. When the waiter moved off I tried not to scowl at the perfect timing he’d had.

Seesh, did the guy know I was having a bad day and needed to order something?

I pulled out my binder and went through some old class notes from a few years ago. 

They reminded me what I was truly good at: backstage work.

“Any work at a theatre for that matter.”

Rolling my eyes I flipped ahead to the new class I was working on. It was an online creative writing class that I was finding to be insightful. It was a lot more fun than most of my English classes had been. Some of the assignments had been a “choose your own and write at least two-hundred and fifty words” gig. I’d taken the time and liberally used my theatre mind to create exotic plots, engaging characters, exquisite sets and locations and a fatalistic deaths. Or, as I liked to call them: death with a flare!

“Too bad I can’t get paid to do this,” I shut my binder and leaned against the table. I’d sent some of my work to publishers before. I’d gotten fantastic feedback, most of them had been enthuastic about publishing my short stories. The only problem was they wanted me to pay them, starting around three hundred and working its way up. I couldn’t afford to do that. “Besides, I always thought the publisher was supposed to pay the writer to publish, what happened to that?”

Pushing my binder aside I leaned over, resisting the urge to check my phone. I wasn’t expecting anyone to call, contact or talk.

“Here you go, one peach pie, a la mode.”

I looked up as a plate full of deliciousness was set in front of me. A little piece of my spirit lifted.

“Thank you,” I took the fork and took a small bite. Always savor that first little taste.

I sat there with my pie and ice cream, letting the world drift its way around me and my little table. I was an oasis against the world. I was my own person and far from the cares and bothers of the world at large. For that brief moment of pie eating I was able to forget my current problems and concerns. All I had to worry about right now was finishing my dessert. I didn’t want to take it home with me. I wanted to finish something in this bothersome world.

No need to worry and bother about this right now. For this brief moment in time I am alone with me, myself and this fantastic piece of pie. Nothing else exists in this world: no worries about the old job, finding a new job, dealing with bills, dealing with a car. None of that exists here at my little table.

I savored another bite, watching the people across the street. There were many types: the man with a clean cut suit, briefcase, straight back and Bluetooth in his ear; the business woman in a pants suite with a brand name purse and blackberry in hand, checking her messages or sending ones out; the average Joe with his backpack and earphones plugged into his iPod or other musical device; the construction workers, on their way to a new building cite, or out to fix up another part of the old city; and then there the tourists, complete with vacant, starry eyed expressions, brochures, tour guides, cameras, cell phones and wonderlust.

I eyed them with envy. Each one had a different backstory, different life problems to face when they went home at night. Each one had a job to go to each morning; something to do to occupy their days and minds.

Alright, I need to stop feeling so sorry for myself, this is quite ridiculous! It’s not like I haven’t had a job before. This is just another set back in life. Another trial to face and overcome; another little bump on the scale of life. All I have to do is put myself out there and find a job that I won’t dread waking up to. A job I won’t dread leaving, or filling my time. This is just another fun way of finding that one perfect place for me. I can do it! Anything is achievable when you set your mind to it!

“Here’s your receipt.”

Looking up I took the white slip. I’d schooled my face so I didn’t cringe when I saw the tab. Reaching through my bag I took out my debit card and handed it back to the waiter in the little black book. He smiled, took it and went back inside. A moment later he returned and handed it back. I scribbled a tip on the bottom, knowing that I couldn’t skimp on that.

I took my copy of the receipt and stuffed in in my binder, which got a less ceremonissly dump in my bag. I smiled at the waiter and headed off back towards the park. While waiting for the light I finally got my cell out to see where I was with the time. The clock was masked by a message �" saying I had a new text. I felt my heart kick up, reading who it was from.

DON’T FORGET. FIRST READ THROUGH TOMORROW NIGHT. NEED YOU HERE AT DESTLER. 6:30 SHARP!

Smiling I waited until I’d crossed the street and entered the park before hitting REPLY. I thumbed out a message, relieved he’d finally got off his lazy butt and texted me back.

WOULDN’T MISS IT FOR THE WORLD! YOU ARE WEIRD FOR HAVING FIRST READING ON A FRIDAY. ;P SEE YOU AT 6!!

Closing my cell I grinned. This might just be the opportunity I needed.

After all, that place is huge and does require a lot of workers. It’d be just the ticket for me!

After the message went off I was able to get the time.

Just enough to get back to my car and head out of town.

I had a pleasant little walk back through to my car, stopping once to get some roasted pecans. I’d have to curb my impulse snack spending for a while, but it was manageable. My stomach dropped a few inches when another reality hit me: I’d have to tell the PR people that I couldn’t pay their actor’s fine. I was out of a job and didn’t have enough to pay for it. I wanted to stick with it to the end; it being the first performance I would be acting in since high school. But community theatre being what it is, I was eager just to be able to do anything in a theatre setting again. I was loving being an extra in the cast, getting to meet new people and learn some new techniques from the community perspective. My audition had gone far better than I’d first anticipated. I’d gone to the auditions on an impulse, a sort of whim. Those had been last month, right after a full day of shopping for my new town house. (I never knew kitchen appliances and blankets could be so blasted expensive!) I was still nervous about being an actress, I was far more comfortable behind a stage, wearing all black.

“But, as I’ve said before, theatre work is theatre work, no matter where you can get it.”

I’d nailed the audition and managed to knock out those high notes.

“Not an actress at heart, but still fun to do in the off time.”

Reaching my car I got in and turned the air on. For the beginning of August it was despicably hot out. Adjusting the radio I pulled out into the light afternoon traffic, hoping to get out before the heavy stuff finally hit. My old light tan, station wagon was still puttering around �" years after mechanics said it should have bit the dust. I loved it too much to part with. It had all the space I needed form me to dump extra theatre things in the trunk, freeing up the back seat for when I happened to go shopping, or did something with friends (which wasn’t all that often because, well I didn’t have too many friends.) I’d nicknamed the car Weatherby, because of its continual endurance. It had a heck of a lot more than I did.

I passed through the city, pausing along a side road to look up at the old Destler theatre. It was a huge feat of engineering and architecture. It rose up over the street to over fifteen stories. It was grandiose on the outside, replicating theatre facades from across the pond. I watched a few cars come and go, people walking up to the box office and buying tickets to the current show. I envied them the place they got to work at each day.

I can’t wait for the read through tomorrow, it might be the in that I need.

An “in”, if my friend who’d texted me managed to find me something. I was still puzzled why he wanted me to come for the read through of the next production. He knew my area of expertise was in the backstage arts rather than the front stage arts.

“Maybe it’s just for someone who’s going to be out.”

Shaking my head I headed back onto the main road. The rest of the drive through the city was quick. Most of the traffic had cleared up for me to get out and back to the town over. I swung by a fast food place and got a burger to tie me over until I got home later. The company had used a Methodist church for rehearsals, but the show would be held at an outdoor Amphitheatre a little ways out of town. I pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. Coming directly out of college I was still getting the nacks and nicks of what happened in a community theatre. Most of it was still a mystery, but from I’d learned about this particular one, I wasn’t impressed. It was part of the reason why I was having to back out of this show. I had all the props and costumes I’d been ‘loaned’ in the trunk, ready to turn back in.

I pulled around the back to the actor/crew parking lot and took a shady spot, preparing for the last day here. Cutting the engine I leaned back and pulled out the hamburger. I was thinking of the leftovers back in my fridge that I should have brought: pasta salad, grapes, carrots with ranch dressing and butter rolls. Shrugging I bit into the burger and enjoyed quick-goodness for a few minutes. Grabbing the keys from the ignition I got out and popped the trunk. I pulled out the costumes I’d been given �" most the sort of thing I wouldn’t look at twice. They were distasteful and, well I guess I can’t complain about the costumes. It’s what they were meant for.

Part of the reason I’m tossing in the towel. There’s an obvious connection between having a desire to finish and that ultimate desire to keep up my own standards.

I kicked myself again, for letting it get to this point. I should have said no when I had the chance, instead of waiting until Hell well (the week of tech, costume, make-up and opening night.)

Killing the engine I pulled out the keys and got out. Manually opening the trunk I pulled out the bag of clothing, feeling a pit in my stomach. I’d barely had them a week, but a week was more than enough time for me to decide. Even being in costume as a different character they made me feel disguisted with myself. These costumes were more like tolerable underwear than clothing, definitely something a girl in a club would wear for a performance. I stared at the bag �" at the bomb I was about to drop on the director and the whole cast. My part hadn’t been all that big, so I didn’t think it would matter to anyone.

“Mira, hey!”

Startled I looked around and saw a tall blonde coming towards me. She was one of the people I’d made friends with.

“Hey Marissa, what’s up?”

She was holding all of her stuff, neatly placed in a laundry basket. I took my bags and closed the trunk, walking up to the theatre with her. In the show we were supposed to be twins, or sisters. It was a weird match-up. In keeping with that extra tid-bit we’d spent most of the rehearsals together, hanging out. I bit my lip, knowing that when I left the show Marissa would be flying solo.

Cripes! Why do I let myself get into this predicements? This is �"

“Same old, same old �" nothing but boring school stuff.”

I couldn’t help a little laugh, “Ha, ha! Fun times.”

Marissa rolled her eyes, “Oh, the nightmare known to man-kind as high school.”

“Heh, don’t I know it,” I let my laughter ring a moment longer. I couldn’t resist one last little jab, “Wait till you hit college.”

I heard her groan and grinned. I knew well the hazards of high school, I still don’t know how I’d managed to get through it. There were many rites and rituals that went with being a high school student �" most of them were useless things that would never again happen in your life. For being such a “hallowed” time of life it was really full of cruel work and often times cruler people. My own years in that disguisting place had been spent moving around, making new friends, avoiding certain people, and then getting back into theatre �" trying not to let on about the crisis my personal life had gone through. That alone had been the reason I’d retreated back inside the safe, cool walls of the theatre �" it was the best career that I could think of for myself. All of the other one’s that I’d considered getting into were just too bland for me. This one kept me on my feet �" or would, if I could find a full time job inside a functioning theatre. All of the other careers that I’d considered at one point had gone down the drain with the rinsed shampoo and conditioner, leaving the clean smell of the theatre in its place. But, since finishing, or rather surviving, my high school and getting my Associate’s degree in Fine Arts I realized that getting into the business would be a smite more difficult that I’d originally planned for. I was finishing my degree online through a good university �" lacking the funds to continue on campus somewhere. Each semester I’d been attending had gone up in price, something was starting to hurt my already crippled bank account. What with the job I’d just dropped, and now the show I was backing out of work seemed to be equal in killing my education.

Not that I didn’t somewhat help with that aspect. But in all consideration, living on campus was out of the question if I was going to work. And that first job had promised to work with my school schedule.

Which had worked out really well �" until my second semester started. From that point on I’d gone from one job to the next each semester. Each one had promised me that they would work around my school schedule so that I could work, and yet each semester I’d had to go looking for work. All of it had been part-time anyway, which was almost as discouraging as the jobs themselves had been. I’d been on the brink of calling a close friend for some dire help when the doctor had offered me a job there. Before that office disaster I’d done some volunteer work down at the college, helping out on the last production �" my first time as a stage manager. It’d been really fun, getting to run the whole show backstage �" even if I did think I’d screwed a few things up. All in all the show had gotten really great reviews and comments from those who’d come to see it.

Ah, Hamlet, you were equally kind and cruel to me. I both love and loathe you with infinite passion.

Just thinking about that show made me feel a little nauseous.

“You ready for opening night this week?”

Coming out of my previous thoughts I grinned, “Always.”

I stayed through rehearsal tonight, finding it not the right time to back out just yet. I couldn’t do it. So, the next five hours were spent in a blur of blocking mistakes, singing blunders, dancing dips, dull monologues, quick costume changes and learning how to apply the vicious think known only as stage make-up. By the time ten o’clock rolled around I was ready to take a nice hot shower and crash under my soft blankets on my equally appealing soft bed. I was perfectly ready to call it a day �" or night �" whatever, and block it all out of my mind. All of the pressing and annoying things dealing with community theatre, having to hunt for another job and hoping I was doing the right thing. For once I was glad that I wasn’t in high school, having to ask people what to do or where to go onstage. It would have been embarrassing to even have to ask, considering I had a frekin degree in this.

As I was walking to my car I saw Marissa coming out.

“See ya tomorrow, Mira,” she waved at me from the door.

“Yeah, you too,” I waved back, feeling the enthuesiam run away from me. I couldn’t be excited to come back here tomorrow. This was starting to take a strain on my megear budget too. Postponing my back out much longer wouldn’t end well.

I ducked into my car as quickly as I could and tossed the bag of clothes into the bag, managing to get them into the trunk. Starting the engine I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home, back in the city. The drive back was relatively quicker than, considering it was a school night and all the kids had a curfew. I took my time, not wanting to catch a speeding ticket in the process. Arriving back at my little townhouse I was glad that I’d remembered to leave the outer lights on before heading out this morning. It would be a drain on my power bill, but until the street lamp started working again I’d have to make do and suffer through it. Pulling into the driveway I opened the garage and parked inside, closing the door behind me. Grabbing my things from the backseat I headed inside. The kitchen was as I’d left it earlier �" clean. I switched on the main lights before shutting and locking the door. Dumping my things on the table I rummaged through my bag for my cell. Nothing new there. Walking over to the land line I checked for messages �" in case I had any important calls while I was out. Smacking the button on the box I heated a plate of leftovers for a late dinner while the machine ran through the first five ritual minutes. When it finally got the messages I sank down on a chair and started munching.

“You have one new message. First unheard message, sent today at eleven-fifty-

nine, AM, eastern time.”

BEEP.

“Map! Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all week �" no, longer. Ok, not longer, just today. I haven’t heard from you in weeks, call me! I’m pretty sure you’ve got my number still. Hurry up already, I’m back in town and ready for some fun time! Oh, by the by, it’s Andrea.”

BEEP.

I reached over and turned off the machine. The blinking light went off and the machine went silent. I heard a noise below and looked down to see my new kitten staring up at me. Picking him up I gave him a little piece of chicken.

“Hear that Baby Cow, Drea’s finally back in town,” I set him on the ground and he ran off to his food dish to finish his snack. I finished my own and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. A moment later I felt him rubbing up against my ankles, his little purr going loudly. Starting the dishwasher I bent down and scooped up the tiny bundle of fuzz, feeling that vibrating noise grow louder.

“And how was your day Baby Cow? Did you have fun with your baby-sitter?”

He nuzzled against my chin, purring louder. I smiled, feeling some of the stress relinquish from my body. Entering the living room I spotted the texter, and now cat-sitter asleep on my couch. He was sprawled out with his head on the arm rest, one leg on and one leg off. It looked uncomfortable to me, but guys had weird ways of sleeping. An idea came into my mind and grinned at the fur in my hands. Tiptoing over to the sleepers’ feet I paused for a second.

Hmm . . . I’m sure he heard me come in. That garage isn’t exactly quiet when it comes up or goes down. And the answering maching would have woken him up for sure. The only solution is he’s really tired or �"

Baby Cow squirmed and leapt out of my arms. He landed on his feet, bounding from the couch to the floor, before taking off back into the kitchen.

“What �" Yeii!”

I jumped as someone reached out and grabbed me behind the knees. I teetered for a moment, arms pinwheeling around me, before I toppled over into the now vacant couch. I closed my eyes against the impact and felt two arms pinning me down. I squirmed for a moment.

“Truce! True! Cease, Wellington!”

I opened my eyes in time to see him pause, hands poised above my ribcage.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet,” I bit my lip, waiting until he moved before sitting up and swinging my legs over the side in a proper sitting position.

“Huh, you’re later tonight,” he looked at his watch, “Long day?”

I shook my head, “Only long because of a ridiculous rehearsal with people who think that they know everything there is to know about the theatre without having gone to school for it, making it quite obvious that they truly know nothing.”

I heard him “hurrumph” in distaste.

Well, they can’t all be like you either Mr “I have to have as many degrees as I can in less than five years”.

“I would give them the excuse of being nothing but teenagers, those relatively new 

to the whole theatre world, but I’m sure they would boast that they’ve done previous shows before this one.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t start making excuses for them. They should know better than to brag about things they know nothing about. People who think they need to act like that need to find a different career or hobby; no sane director on the planet will ever hire them if they keep up their narassistic attitude.”

I signed, leaning back. This had been a constant argument between the two of us since I’d told him about the production. I knew he was right about it, but I was too stubborn to openly admit that to his ego.

Besides, this whole day has already given me more than just a headache.

“So, did you enjoy the easy day?”

He stretched his arms above his head, “The same as it usually is when I have to cat-sit. Nothing interesting happened to the cute, fuzzy furball �" taken from your own words.”

I grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the side with it.

“Don’t be such a jerk!”

“How can I not be? It’s something I’m quite naturally good at.” He fended off the pillow, “It’s not like I’m getting paid here.”

I smacked him again for good measure, “Speaking of which, why are you starting rehearsals on a Friday night?”

He shrugged, “When did you expect them to start?”

“Uh, well, Monday. I’m pretty sure that’s when ninety-nine percent of the theatre companies in the world start their rehearsals,” I waved a hand in the air, “What’s so special about starting on a Friday? Isn’t that bad luck or something?”

He didn’t answer.

Looking over I realized that he’d tried to make a fast escape.

“Brian! We’re not done with this conversation! Get back here Mr. Director-manager-owner!”

He held up a hand, lowering his voice, “Hey, quiet on that last part.”

I moved forward and blocked the door, cutting off his escape.

“And why not? Doesn’t the entire world know about it yet?”

I watched him run a hand through his hair, stalling for time.

“You’re hiding something,” I knew his stalling tactics. I also knew that he was not outright lying to me, but he was definitely hiding something. He was playing the game again, it was the same routine with everyone he met.  I’d watched him do it many times over the years. Thankfully I knew how to counter it. “Brian,” I kept my voice level, “what’s going on?”

He shuffled a moment, turned around. “I’ve gotta go,” he tried to move past me.

“Whoa! What can’t you tell me?” I deflected his hand when he tried to reach for the knob. I caught his hand, “Brian, I’m one of your best friends. I know you almost as good as your own mom; you know you can trust me.”

Come on Brian, even if you think the whole world might be out to get you, if you think you can’t trust anyone else on the planet �" especially your own mom �" you can trust me. You know that.

“It’s,” I waited for him. “It’s just that �" I �" ” he stopped.

He looked me square in the eye, “Later.”

Aw, dang it! I was actually getting close!

I might have been presumptuous of the whole ‘knowing him better than most people did’ situation; he knew me the same way. I cursed that drawback.

Frustrated I stepped away from the door, “Fine.”

“Do you still need a cat-sitter tomorrow?”

I wanted to smack his head with that binder in his bag, “If you’re job can let you be away for so long.”

He chuckled, releasing some of the previous tension.

“I’d have to ask the boss.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing very well who he own boss was, “Same bat time?”

“Same bat channel.”

I smiled, shaking my head. He grinned at me before letting himself out. I laughed quietly and pulled back the drapes by the front door. I watched him head down the front walk, go around the arch, then disappear around the far corner. I checked the deadbolts and the other locks before hitting the front lights.

“Mew,” looking behind me I saw my little bundle of fuzz. He was perched on the bottom step of the staircase.

“Well little Cow, you ready to pull up the covers and call it a day?”

I heard him start purring. He waited patiently on the stair while I went through the main floor, shutting off extra lights, locking up the windows and doors, then grabbing my bag from the kitchen. In the front hall I picked up the little ball of fluff and headed up, answering my own question.

“I sure as heck am.”

It had been one tense emotion after another all day long. I was on the brink of making some literal life-changing decisions �" ones I didn’t think I was ready for yet.

But make them I must.

I shut off the hall light and went into my room.

Author's Note

I know it's long (12 pages), any ideas for making it shorter? Or does it flow well enough?