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“SHIT!”
“Two more dollars, Mommy!” Dante calls from where his sonic ears pick up signals from space. It’s a miracle Troy and I have gotten away with our bickering so far.
“Dante, we no longer give curse money in this house.”
“Nuh-uh.” Deciding not to fight with my six-year-old, I busy myself with my laundry, trying my best not to freak out. I’ve been through worse. I’ll get through this. Opening my dresser drawer, I see Troy’s cream sweater sitting on top of my T-shirts. I pull it out to see a note attached to the breast. I slip the sweater on and bring the V of the neck to my nose, inhaling deeply. I blame the tears that spring to my eyes on my hormones.
Wear this when you need me, pretty woman, and I hope you wear it a lot.
Yours,
Troy
Walking up the sidewalk into Brett’s office, I cringe when I see his BMW in the parking lot. The man is rarely there during business hours, why does he have to be in today? Cashier’s check in hand and emergency savings drained, I walk into the reception area, thankful to see his door closed. Envelope ready, I hand it to the receptionist.
“222 Ohara drive. You called this morning.”
“Yes, hold on a minute.” She picks up her phone and presses an extension. “Mr. Tompkins.” I wince as she looks up at me with a plastic smile. “Ms. Arden is here.” I’m still cringing when he opens his door and lifts brown eyes to mine.
“Hey, you,” he says, ushering me toward his office.
“Hey, Brett, I can’t stay, I have to pick up Dante from the neighbors.”
He slides his hands in his slacks. This man was my colleg
e dream. He’d been a slight obsession for me for multiple semesters. He’s beautiful in the polished suit sense, a take control kind of man, ambitious. All the things I found attractive. But after just a few short months of dating him, all my curiosity was quenched and swapped out for disappointment. But I can’t help but to be thankful for the trade-off as I take another whiff of the cologne from my sweater.
“Come on,” he tilts his head toward his office, “you’ve got a few minutes.”
“Just a few,” I say, walking into his office. He closes the door behind him as my phone buzzes.
Troy: How many sleeps left?
I press my lips together to hide my smile and glance up at Brett, who’s taking a seat behind his desk.
Clarissa: I can’t talk right now. I’m in the middle of a love affair with a cream sweater. Which I will need every day.
Troy: (Smiley face emoji) Call you later, baby, I need to check-in.
My heart warms at the sentiment.
Clarissa: It’s a date. (Kissing face emoji)
Brett clears his throat. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine. Just stopped by to pay rent.”
“Yeah. I saw that. Everything okay?”
“This is embarrassing. But yes. Everything is fine.”
Visions of bitch-slapping receptionists dancing in my head, I give him a polite smile. That witch knew we were dating because I’ve met him at his office more than once. I’m sure she wants nothing more than to bone her boss, if she hasn’t already. It occurs to me now just how often he called to tell me he’d be working late at the office.
I’m willing to bet she pranced in his office today with his morning coffee, twirling her hair with a ‘guess whose check bounced?’ ready on her tongue.
“Shit happens, right?”
“Yes, it certainly does. But I’m sure you have no clue what this is like. Ever bounced a check, Brett?”
