Page 28 of Dmitri

Okay. Shower, coffee, and work. No more dirty thoughts of the enemy of my enemy.

Twenty minutes later, I’m in comfy shorts, a ripped, oversized t-shirt, and at my desk, logging into the portal so I can get started on my day. I’m a medical coder. It’s not the greatest job, but it’s interesting and I get to do it from home, which is perfect since I don’t like the idea of Addie being home alone. It’s not safe here anymore.

Which is entirely my fault.

Three hours later, the front door opens and Addie steps in, looking rough.

“Good morning.”

“Hey.” She drops her bag on the floor and kicks her flip-flops off. “Coffee still on?”

“Yeah.” I open the next patient case and start working on it. Stacks of books with colored tabs poking out of the pages line both sides of my laptop. I’ve scribbled all over a notepad, making reminders for myself. Sticky notes are everywhere. It looks messier than it is. I have a system.

“How are you working on a Saturday?” Addie asks from the kitchen.

“Money don’t make itself, babe.” I rub my tired eyes. “I fell behind this week and need to catch up.” The money isn’t great yet, but the flexibility makes up for it. I get paid per chart I complete, but as the newest member of the private company I’m working for, I somehow always end up with the charts that are long and take me hours to finish, which means others have already snagged the shorter cases they can complete quickly and get more done in a day than me, thus making more money than me.

It is what it is.

“Want to go to the movies later?”

“Can’t,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll probably be at this all day.”

“Girl, you work harder than an ugly stripper.” Addie trudges past me and into the living room, plopping down on the couch. “You need to take breaks.”

“Taking breaks is why I’m behind.” Finding where I left off, I start my project again. It’s tedious work, but I get to learn new things each day and that’s kind of cool. The chart I’m on now is for a one-hundred-and-fifty-five-day hospital stay. Poor dude.

I grow quiet while concentrating again. Addie eventually turns on the TV and settles on the couch like she has no intention of getting up for the day. Ah, to be sixteen again. “Do you have work later?”

“Nope. Thank God.” She stretches out on the sofa. “I’m exhausted.”

“When did you go to sleep?”

“I haven’t yet. We stayed up all night binging anime with some friends and then I just decided to come home early.”

Worry makes me lose my place on the chart I’m in. I thought it was just Addie and Tasha hanging out last night. “Who were the other friends?”

Addie doesn’t respond.

“Who were the other friends?” Tasha rarely has more than one person over at a time, and her parents don’t allow big slumber parties. “Addie.”

She’s passed out on the couch already.

Tip toeing over, I grab a blanket from a stack we keep on a chair in the corner and cover her with it. There’s a new thick leather bracelet on her wrist. Guess she added to her collection. My girl has bracelets going halfway up both arms. I don’t know how she sleeps with all of them on. Her makeup’s smudgy and hair is falling out of her messy bun. The nail polish on her fingers has almost worn completely off, too.

While Addie sleeps peacefully on the couch, I won’t allow myself to sink into the depressing thoughts that always harp on the fact that I’ve failed her. I’m not equipped to take care of a teenager, but here I am doing it. I’m not even qualified to take care of myself half the time. But here I am.

Here… I still… am.

Fighting back the crushing weight of being the world’s biggest disaster, I walk over to a window so I can open it. Fresh air will do us both some good. Then I head to the sliding glass door in the kitchen and open that one, too.

Hang on. What is that?

A small, folded piece of paper is tucked beneath the handle of the sliding door. With shaky hands, I open it and read the message.

Put a bat on the slider as a stopper next time, Firefly.

Unless you want me to come back and mess that pretty face up again.

---