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It’s where comfort is. It’s where I can open my petals and bloom into my true self without the judgmental eyes of the world on me. I kick my stilettos across the room and then think better of it, picking them up and placing them in the shoe closet behind the front door.
Cinnamon meows and stretches on the back of the couch where he’s always perched when I get home. I brush his soft, orange fur.
“Hey, bub,” I tell him. He purrs and pushes into my touch.
He’s the only man in my life that’s ever been anything to me. Well, he and his brothers.
I’d found the three of them on Craigslist—yes, that’s still a thing.
Piglet and Tigger are both huddled on the cat tree, snoring as they cuddle together. I give them both a stroke, and Tigger opens one eye, closing it promptly when he sees it’s me.
Yep, me, guys.
After showering and removing the ridiculous make-up that makes me feel like I’m wearing a Halloween mask, I slip into sweats and shove my glasses back on.
I sigh, looking myself over.
There you are, Rina.
Human Resources had gotten me set up with a badge and gotten all my tax information done. I’d set up payroll, and she’d informed me Conner explicitly told them I wasn’t getting a week held back. I’m thankful, but it also makes me sound like a charity case.
I move into the kitchen to wash the dishes I’d left behind last night. I was going to do them this morning before my interview, but I’d woken up late. I blame Netflix and the ‘next episode’ button.
When I get into the kitchen, I stop dead in the middle. It’s clean. I wince, searching for the memory in my hazy mental filing cabinet, but come up empty. This has happened before, so I know it’s probably red wine-drunk Carina at her old tricks.
I shake my head and move to the calendar, removing a few things and adding what time work is on Monday. After calling the local pho place and placing my usual order with Mr. Hei, I pour the remaining wine from the bottle into my glass and move to the living room. I unplug my laptop in passing so I don’t ruin the battery.
Tonight is the first night in months—since the lay off—that I can relax and know that Monday I have a job to get to. It feels amazing despite the daunting feeling of starting over again.
I take a long sip as I flip through Netflix, even though I know I’ll click on the same show. It’s almost Fall, which means I’m going to click on Supernatural and start from the beginning as I always do this time of year.
Something creaks above my head, and I freeze, looking up as my heart pounds in my breast. I hold my breath, listening as hard as I can, waiting to see if I hear anything else.
I bought this house a year ago, and because it was built in the 1800s, it’s always making noises. Sometimes, I can ignore them. Other times, like now, they unnerve me. I take a long drag of wine, and the doorbell rings, almost causing me to spit it out.
I open the door and pay Andy for my food, tipping him generously for the first time in weeks because I can now afford to.
“Hope you’re doing well, Rina. Have a great night!” he tells me, bounding down the steps, off to another delivery.
To hear Andy call me by my nickname makes me inwardly cringe because he’s the delivery guy for my food, and I’m closer with him than anyone else.
As I eat and watch Sam and Dean go look for their father who hasn’t come home from a hunting mission, I run my mind over all I know about deodorant for Monday.
It feels good to have less to worry about.
The floorboards above creak, and I look up, ramen hanging out of my mouth and steaming up the bottom of my glasses as I hold it so near the lenses.
I think about dialing Ryker but stow the thought. When something crashes to the floor, I spit my noodles back into the container, placing it down as silently as I can, pulling out my phone and texting Ryker.
Are you home?
Yeah, why? What’s up?
I’m probably nuts, but it sounds like someone’s in the house.
I’ll be right over. Make your way to the porch quietly.
K. Hurry!
