AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lennon places her elbows on the table and cocks her head to the side. “Ha,” she says. “Considering the fact that you’re describing every cartoon ever, I’m sure you’ll live. You’ll just be flattened like a pancake.”
I snort a laugh before responding. “At least we’ll have matching chests, then.”
Her chuckle floats across the table, and I’m reminded of all the reasons I stick around Lennon. For starters, she’s the most honest person I know, and something about that makes her feel incredibly safe. It gives my anxious brain the freedom to be honest, too–to let go and not think so hard about everything I do and say and how it is going to affect the people around me.
She loves jokes–especially when they’re bitchy.
Bitchy is Lennon’s favorite pastime.
“I’m taking the gift back,” she remarks, but I know she doesn’t mean it.
As I rip the paper open, the last scrap falls away before I turn the package over to read what’s inside.
Charcoal pencils for drawing.
My chest warms, and I look up to find Lennon’s satisfied expression. She glances once at the sketchbook still resting on the table’s surface. “Have fun in prison,” she says. “Sorry, I’m poor. I’ll bring something else back from The Mall of America. I know they’re just art pencils.”
“You know I don’t care,” I say, tucking a black strand of hair behind my ear. “Besides, these are the expensive ones, anyway.”
“High price, high quality,” she states before taking a sip of her coffee.
“Sometimes.” The smile dances on my lips before I watch the couple sitting across the way stand up to leave. I consider, just briefly, giving them the drawing, but then think better of it. While Lennon’s suggestion of prison is just slightly on the side oftoo far, I am certain a disgusted look and an awkward “how nice,” are completely on the table. I would like to avoid both.
“So, how’s the dungeon?” she asks.
My gaze draws away from the couple and back to Lennon.The Dungeonhappens to be the name of my new office location. For some insane reason, the company decided that during the building renovations, they would move the marketing team to the basement. Maybe it’s because they believe we are chronically online. I suppose social media is part of the job, but I don’t understand why I have to sit in a frigid, leaking office space with exposed piping that reminds me of a horror movie.
The lights flicker and everything.
“I’m hoping they mean it this time when they say three more weeks,” I offer. Leaning forward for emphasis, I cradle my lukewarm coffee carefully in an attempt to keep it fromspilling. “I don’t understand why they didn’t just move everyone in accounting down there. Anyone who gets off on Excel spreadsheets filled with numbers and data would probably love being cut off from civilization.”
“Still not getting to the coffee machine in the morning?”
I let out a breath, throwing my hands in the air. “It’s like five miles away, and you know how I am about appearing late!”
“You wouldn’t be late, Ellis. You’re literally still in the building.”
My nose scrunches in disgust. For someone who has known me for six years, Lennon really doesn’t understand me at all. “I refuse toappearlate, and I also refuse to wake up earlier than seven.”
She snorts. “No sense. Not even a little.”
My phone buzzes on the table, and I pick it up, reading the text message from my aunt.
Beatrice:Eloise is practically buzzing with excitement. Can’t wait to see you!
“Shit.” My heart drops so fast, I’m afraid it might fall right out of my asshole. When I look at the time, I realize that I have exactly seventeen minutes to drive twenty minutes away from the coffee shop. “I totally forgot I had to watch Eloise tonight.”
“B has a hot date?”
I stand up, shoving my sketchbook into my backpack on the floor before pulling my coat on. “With her husband, yes.” I wince. “I happen to be the babysitter tonight.”
“You’re the babysitter every night.” Lennon taps a finger on the table, her eyes sparkling with challenge. There’s a subtle dig beneath her words, written in the tone and her expression, but I’m not ready to acknowledge it.
She isn’t wrong, but she isn’t right either. It’s not like I have some crazy job or boyfriend that requires all my attention. I can help Beatrice out every once in a while. It’s the least I can do.
Aunt B found herself fresh out of college with a thirteen-year-old child after my mother passed. And while she never made me feel like a burden, there were challenges. She met her husband, Brian, at thirty. The entire thing had been a long time coming. B didn’t date before Brian–not after me, that is. Just another blue memory, I suppose.
Long story short–Beatrice sacrificed her twenties, and the least I can do is watch Eloise a few Fridays a month.
