Page 5 of Save Me

I run my hand down my face. And that’s when I feel it. It’s warm in here. Like the AC hasn’t been on in a while.

Wait! My food.

It’s not far to my fridge. It’s not far to anything in my one-bedroom apartment.

When I open the fridge, it’s silent, and the light doesn’t come on.

Fuck. Fucking fuck. Dread builds in my stomach.

Is everyone out? I move to the front door and open it. The neighbor’s porch light is on.

My stomach clenches. I’m behind on a bill, but I’m only a few weeks late. Did they turn off my power?

My stomach growls, and I crack the freezer open. A cool breeze hits me in the face, and I let out a tiny sigh of relief. I grab my lasagna, shut the door, then freeze. How am I going to heat it up with no microwave?

Fucking Christ on a stick. I feel my pulse ramping up, but I stamp it back down.

No. I’m just going to pretend like this isn’t happening. If you don’t pay attention to the bad thing, it can’t be real. This is like when you’re falling asleep, and the pile of laundry on your chair looks like a weird ass person. The more you look, the scarier it gets.

I set the frozen meal down on the counter with a clink. I’m sure I have something else. I root around in my cupboard till I find exactly what I was looking for–a half-eaten pack of family-size M&Ms.

As soon as I pop the sweet chocolate into my mouth, I feel my shoulders loosen.

Then my phone buzzes.

Then it buzzes again.

It takes me a second to decide if looking will make the laundry chair scarier, but I end up flipping the phone over anyway.

CUPCAKELOVER: You know skunks??

CUPCAKELOVER: Sweet succotash, do YOU have a skunk?

I stare at the screen for a full twenty seconds. What in the ever-loving fuck?

That’s when I notice the app sending the message. Oh, that’s right. I messaged someone on the pet app. Honestly, I thought he was a scam, though. No way in hell someone’s offering multiple figures for pet sitting.

And no, I don’t have a skunk. I’ve never had a skunk, specifically. My parents had all kinds of reptiles, snakes, fish, guinea pigs, sugar gliders, and even a mini pig. But the goddamn money tag on this job sure beats a dog walk or sit. I mean fuck, I might pay for gas and groceries and maybe my bills. If it’s even real.

Me: I can help.

Me: What are you looking for?

CUPCAKELOVER: Flip yeah! That’s amazing! I haven’t found anyone with experience.

CUPCAKELOVER: I need a sitter for when I’m working.

CUPCAKELOVER: I have odd hours, mostly evenings. But I can be flexible!

That works, given that most of my other job is in the morning. Something feels floaty in my chest. This could work. As soon as I think that, I stamp it back down. I can’t afford to get my hopes up.

It’s warm in here, and I have to wipe the sweat from my fingers before I type.

Me: That should work. I also have odd hours, mostly mornings.

Then, because I feel I have to sweeten the deal, I say:

Me: My parents used to have a skunk. All kinds of exotic animals, really.