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“Thanks, Brenda. That means a lot.”
With a wink, she stepped away and called over her shoulder. “You’ll make us all look good! See you Monday!”
“See you Monday,” she whispered and zipped up her coat with unexpected pride.
The wind lashed at her face as she left the building, leaving behind her internship for the weekend. Casey hopped down the giant cement staircase toward Rush Street, aiming straight for the red line. Pulling her coat tighter around her body, she rammed her hands into a pair of wool gloves as the familiar city noises of Chicago gripped her ears.
The train rattled to a stop at the platform. Forcing her way through the crowd, she jumped into the first car and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her fellow passengers as the train jerked forward. She stared out the window, following the sights of the now familiar twenty-minute commute through the city until she pushed her way to freedom at her usual stop.
Casey rounded the corner and breezed past The Broken Shaker. She grinned, tempted to peek inside and see who Jim hired to replace her after she’d resigned six weeks ago. Brenda exceeded her bartending paycheck and offered her an extended internship that would carry her through the end of the campaign.
And I’ll figure out what to do after that. All I know is that I’ll never go back to pouring drinks.
Warmth greeted her as she stepped inside her building and climbed the three floors to her apartment. Casey pushed the door open, her eyes automatically averting the living room as she kicked off her shoes and ran down the hallway toward the safety of her bedroom.
Her face fell into her pillow, the soft material welcoming her wind-lashed face like an old friend. With a sigh, she shrugged off her coat as her phone vibrated with an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, yes, is this Casey McDaniels?”
Casey frowned, ready to hang up on the spam call, but her mouth opened instead. “Umm, yes, it is.”
“Oh, good. Ms. McDaniels I’m calling to confirm your appointment tomorrow morning to view an open unit in the new Lakewood apartment complex. Is 10 AM still okay?”
Oh! I forgot about that!
Casey cleared her throat as her gaze darted around her room, the last nine years of her life consuming the small space. Her stomach clenched as she recalled the impulsive call she’d made three weeks ago to schedule a viewing when a unit became available. “Ten is perfect. I’ll be there.”
“Excellent. I’ll have Jan onsite to greet you with a contract if you’re ready to sign. Enjoy your evening!”
The call ended and Casey dropped her phone on the mattress. Heaving out a sigh, she swung her feet to the floor and stood, her toe catching the corner of a cardboard box.
“Ouch!” she yelled and squatted down to examine the injury.
Just a stupid stubbed toe...
She shoved the box aside in anger and frowned as the top flap fluttered open. “What is even in here?” Casey poked her nose inside, her fingers brushing against a pair of old flip-flops, an out-of-season handbag, and a mishmash of hair accessories until something hard collided with her knuckles. With a twinge in her gut, Casey shoved awayA Novel Approach to Political Science, the textbook a physical reminder of the previous soul-crushing summer.
Her mouth went dry as she closed the box and pushed it across the bedroom until it banged into her desk chair. “Fuck you, political science,” she muttered. “No one gives a shit about a nation-state anyway.” With a grimace, she stomped from her bedroom and into the kitchen.
Casey yanked down a glass and filled it to the brim with tap water, gulping down the liquid with gusto. She forced her eyes to focus on the dirty dishes in the sink, the top plate caked with dried spaghetti sauce. But the living room called, tugging and toying with her heart until she slammed the glass down on the counter and padded into the room.
Still wrapped in its plastic prison, Austin’s new blue couch looked back—its cute buttons and soft fabric beckoning her, begging to be unwrapped after the last five months spent in solitude—unused, resting in the middle of the living room floor exactly where it was delivered.
Tears burned her eyes as the familiar ringing in her ears returned, the gut-wrenching pain living in her heart bubbling upward until a cry escaped her lips. Casey swiped at the first trickle of tears dripping down her cheeks and kicked at the open box on the floor housing two Cubbie blue throw pillows.
“Fucking Cubs,” she whined, turning and retreating into her bedroom. “Three and out in the goddamn first round of the playoffs...”
With a groan, she flung herself onto her bed and let the floodgates open. “A fucking fitting end to the season.”
––––––––
“What time is your graduationceremony?”
Casey rolled her eyes. “Mavs, donotfly back here. It’s just a dumb community college thing!”
“Oh, my God, Casey! You’re graduating. Come on. That’s a huge accomplishment! I want to be there when you cross the stage.” Her gaze moved off-screen. “We both do,” she added.
