“One sec, ok?” I rush back to Frankie’s room, carefully removing the sheet and waterproof pad, folding it in on itself to carry to the washer. In the basement, I select the cycle with the hottest setting, then rush up to pull on my shirt.
My phone buzzes on the dresser. I swipe to answer, but—
“Ow! Shhii . . .” I bend at the waist, bringing my foot to my hand and cupping my toes, uncertain if they’re all still attached. I hold my breath, hoping it will ease the pain and the desperate need for nothing to be broken.
Holy mother of . . . Piece of shii . . .
I wheeze, clenching my teeth and trying to keep myself upright rather than crumpling to the floor where my toe may be lying severed and in need of reattachment.
“Gooooood morningggg,” my mom sings, but it’s clouded by the pain.
I inhale and exhale, blinking tears from my eyes.
“Honey?”
“Yeah.” I choke out. “I. . .stubbed my toe.” I carefully rub my pinky, confirming it’s still there, but I can’t be sure it’s still pointed in the right direction.
“Oh, ow. That hurts like a . . .” I hear her suck air through her teeth, and the long-distance sympathy does nothing to help the virtually vomit-inducing pain.
I lean my shoulder against the wall and inspect my tights, which thankfully are still intact. Not even a snag.
I release my foot and gently wiggle my toes even though the fiery ache is almost unbearable.
I limp down the hallway, clutching my phone to my ear. I peek at Frankie, working on pulling every toy out of the basket, hearing theclick, click, clickof dog nails on the old hardwood floor trailing me.
In the kitchen, I reach into the large tub next to the back door and dump a scoop of food into Grover’s bowl.
“So, what did you do yesterday?” my mom asks in her typical cheerful tone, likely attempting to distract me from the pain.
I need a bit of my mom’s peppiness. “Unboxed a few more things and then studied.”
I tap the speaker button and set my phone on the counter next to the coffee pot. I pull my travel mug from the dishwasher, inspect it, and decide it’s clean enough for the gas station-like sludge I’m becoming accustomed to drinking.
“Sweetheart, you need to get out and make friends. You’re too young, smart, and beautiful to sit at home and have your nose in books.”
My mom is the fun mom. The social butterfly. The one who marches to her own drum and right into the party. There’s no room for bad days or wallowing. When things suck, you grab the bull by the horns and make it dance.
I dump in enough vanilla creamer to make the crappy coffee tolerable. “I’m going to work. Believe me, it’s enough socialization these days.”
I glance at the time and must be out the door as soon as Helen arrives.
“What about Kat? Why isn’t she dragging you out of the house? She seems like a woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
She’s not wrong. From what I can tell, Katrina Dunn is a shark. The woman chews people up one side and down the other. Fortunately for me, she doesn’t appear to view me as prey. Are we friends? That’s probably a stretch, but for some reason, she’s taken me under her wing, at least for now.
Two weeks ago, on my first day of work, Kat made herself at home in the chair beside my desk and gave me a rundown on all of my coworkers and the rules for sticking it out. She made it clear that if I wanted to last, I had to refrain from fraternizing, no matter how tempting it might be.
I still don’t quite understand the last one since the list of candidates to possibly fraternize with is equal to none, but I noted it anyway. I never have and never will date or mess around with a co-worker, and that’s before I was screwed all to hell by the one person who should cherish me beyond all others.
Kat smiled a quick, sly smirk and wished me luck as she left me with the twenty years’ worth of marital assets my other boss designated as my first assignment. The same ones I’m still digging through and drowning in.
“Honey, you need a night out with the girls.”
I used to have girls’ nights filled with movies, laughter, and sharing new mom woes, but those days are long gone, and so are those friends. A night out would be fun. But one, I don’t have any friends, and two, the list of what I currently need goes so far beyond a night out.
I throw some crackers and cheese in a baggie for lunch. “Mom, I spent all weekend cleaning and studying during nap time. There are still things to go through and boxes to unpack. Plus, even though she’s not my direct boss, she’s probably not someone I should casually hang out with. I have to prove myself and show I can do more than answer phones and create spreadsheets.”
I unlock the back door, and Grover trots out to do his morning business.
