I close and lock the door behind her. Leaning against the doorframe, my body and mind weary from the exchange.
There’s something so familiar about Sutton, but I just can’t place it. Somehow her presence has evoked strange memories from the past.
The memories of my sister keep popping up more frequently for some reason. And then it dawns on me. I rush over to the wall calendar, flipping over the page from last month that is still displayed and see the July date.
Sure enough. It’s not Sutton that’s manifesting all these recollections. It’s because next week is Mel’s birthday.
The date hits me like a semi-truck, plowing through my head, crashing into the pit of my stomach.
July sixteenth.
Next week would have been my baby sister’s twenty-fifth birthday.
But, just as I’ve done for the past seven years, I’ll be celebrating her alone.
The sister I left and walked away from.
Another family member I couldn’t save.
6
Sutton
Throughout the next few days,I’ve only run into Miles three times during various encounters around the building. Each one has been awkward, at best, and humiliating from my perspective.
And at no point in those impromptu run-ins have I been able to tell him about our history and my friendship with Melodie. And it feels like I’m lying to him because of it.
Speaking of awkward, I see Miles again this morning when Blackie and I are out in front of the apartment building.
While I’m not a morning person, I’ve become accustomed to getting up early to take Blackie outside for his morning constitution. I never realized what a hassle it is to be a city dweller and own a dog.
Where I grew up, we had yards for dogs to run around and areas they could go to do their business. Not city sidewalks where the moment you bend down to clean up doggie doodie, you get bumped in the ass by a passerby and inevitably find your hand covered in poo.
Trust me, it happens.
“Come on, Blackie. Please just poop already,” I prod, as Blackie takes his own sweet time sniffing every tree stump and piece of land covering the entire block. “It’s not like this is unfamiliar territory for you, bud. Been there, done that. Now, can you get on with it? I have to go to work.”
We generally stroll up and down the block first thing in the morning before breakfast. Then I take Blackie out again before heading off to my job at Rags & Tags. In the evenings after his dinner, we take a long walk down to the park, just a few blocks away. This neighborhood is conveniently located in the Upper West Side with Central Park practically right down the street.
The area also boasts some pretty nice restaurants—including a fancy Italian place which is way out of my price range—and a few fun and not so fancy pubs and cafes.
Just the other night, I shamelessly flirted with the bartender, Russ, at the Horse and Carriage. After one-too-many margaritas and strong encouragement (a.k.a. pressure) from Christiana and our other friend, Taylor, I struck up a conversation with Russ, and one thing led to another, and I gave him my number.
Although my dating experience isn’t all that impressive or vast—mainly because I’m overly cautious and extremely picky—when I do feel an attraction, I’m not shy about seeing where it goes.
I don’t date much these days. Not that I’m not interested in meeting someone, or someday finding my soulmate, but dating takes a lot of time. During the school year, I’m focused on studying and working, and I don’t have extra time for anything more than infrequent hookups.
Realizing how much time we’ve spent already, I try to hurry my furry-little buddy along. “Are you going to take all day? Some of us have jobs to get to.”
Blackie blinks up at me as if to say, “Slow your roll, sista. You can’t rush excellence.”
I snicker at this and adjust the leash in my hand, extracting my phone from my back pocket to read the news while the dog does his own communicating with his world of scents and smells.
There are texts from both Ben and Christiana that came in last night after I’d crashed for the night, falling asleep in bed while watching a Netflix episode ofThe Great British Baking Show.
I read Ben’s first.
Ben:Hey, cuz. Doing anything next Saturday? My company has a volunteer event, and we’re drumming up help. It’s for a teen homeless shelter. LMK.
