You didn’t have to do that.
Yes I did.
But thanks anyway.
I should have stayed and talked with you.
It’s fine.
I understand.
I shouldn’t have left like that.
I didn’t respondto that one, sighing as I deliberately put my phone down, screen against the kitchen counter. I’d signed the lease yesterday, and this morning I’d said my goodbyes to Judy and Marsh. Judy had hugged me, telling me that I could comeover anytime and they’d make fish or barbecue chicken and she’d make me a totally dairy-free pie. It was very sweet, and I was tempted.
But I also didn’t want to impose. I might go by sometime—they were very nice people—but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome or overextend their generosity.
That, and I knew myself. I’d attach myself to them—just like I had to Elliot, like I had to Devin before him, like I had to every guy I’d dated before that. Like I had to Noah, although I knew that was a bond that I wouldn’t ever really lose—nor did I want to. But I needed to do this. To be on my own.
Conveniently, my new apartment all but shared a parking lot with the Shawano Police Department, so I could walk there and still be able to run to my car if I needed to. The Shawano County Sheriff’s Office was a couple blocks north, so I could walk there, too. And if we needed to drive, we’d be taking the truck or van anyway.
It occurred to me that I should tell Noah I had a new address.
I sent him a text with it.
It only took a few minutes before he sent me one back.
Does this mean you and Elliot aren’t seeing each other anymore?
I hated the fact thatthatwas the first question he’d asked me.
We were never seeing each other, I sent back.Not like that.
Fine,came the next message. Then,Does that mean you’re not sleeping together anymore?
Sometimes, I didn’t like my brother.None of your business, nosy.
He either didn’t take the hint or chose to ignore it.You’re still staying anyway?
I have a job now,I sent back.You know, the whole reason I came out here.
Noah didn’t send anything for a while.
I worked on unpacking a box of thrift store kitchen stuff—a few plates, some silverware, some bowls, a casserole dish, a skillet, and a french press. Judy Hart had given me a set of dishtowels and washcloths. She’d tried to give me a lot more, but I’d kept her to that. They were cute—the towels. Your standard white kitchen towel, but one had a little pepper cut out of fabric and stitched on like a quilt, and another had a tomato, and the third an eggplant. The washcloths were crocheted, the cotton yarn dyed to shift through primary colors—red, yellow, blue.
I’d also bought a couple of bath towels and a rag rug for the front door. I’d gone to three different thrift stores—I was pretty sure there were only three in Shawano—and I’d managed to make a deal with the local Habitat for Humanity to drop off an old, but moderately unstained, mattress sometime later today. How I was going to get it up the fire escape that led to my apartment door, I didn’t know, but that was a problem I’d deal with when it got here.
I’d spent more than I probably could afford, but I needed dishes to cook with and eat from and something to sleep on that wasn’t the floor. I had another whole list of things it would be nice to have, but those could all wait until I had more than a couple dollars left in my bank account.
I’d also hit the Dollar Store, and now had a collection of off-brand cleaners and soaps and toiletries, as well as paper towels, toilet paper, and tissues. The essentials.
I already hated living by myself.
Did you really hate working with me that much?Noah asked me.
Fucking hell.
I called him.
