Page 22 of A Forgotten Promise

“I saw that, and I also saw this. What the fuck?” She is louder than usual. Or it might just be my haziness.

I peek from under my arm. Beside my friend’s feet in white sneakers, small white pills are strewn on her dark, hardwood floor.

I groan. “It’s not what it looks like.”

I sit up on the sofa that has been my home for the past week.

Cora lives in a small apartment in Brooklyn. To be honest, her entire place is smaller than some of the hotel rooms I’ve stayed in.

But it doesn’t bother me. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that. It’s not like I had many other options. And I enjoy staying with Cora. She doesn’t pry. She is almost never here.

The only downside is the sofa itself. That fucker is uncomfortable. It’s like trying to rest on cactus needles. And I needed to sleep finally. So I took a sleeping pill, because I need my brain back.

Not that my latest situation suggests I ever had a brain to begin with.

“Saar, I tried to give you space. You’re obviously going through something, and you’re avoiding Celeste. I think it’s time we talk.” Cora sits in an armchair across from me.

A thick, black headband keeps her ginger curls from her makeup-less face, a frown splitting her forehead. She purses her lips into a straight line, and observes me with her hazel eyes like she truly cares.

I fidget and look away, because… Well, because I’m ashamed. Because I’m drowning in self-loathing.

I drop to my knees and sweep up the pills with my hand as if they represent all my problems. Only now they remain in my palm, their shiny coating melting into my sweaty skin. And I don’t quite know what to do with them.

Just like I don’t know what to do with my financial conundrum. Or with my life in general. Sighing, I sag onto my behind, leaning against the sofa.

“I haven’t slept well for almost two weeks, so I took two of these. I probably didn’t close the lid properly, and they tumbled to the floor.”

This explains what plausibly happened. It doesn’t explain why I’m avoiding Celeste, or why I’m crashing at my friend’s.

There is a part of me that wants to tell her, but an equally eager part of me hopes she won’t ask anything else.

“I hope my cats didn’t eat any of them.”

My eyes widen first, and then I drop my gaze to the mess in my hand. “I’m sorry, Cora. I’ll move out—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Pitt and Clooney are okay.” As if the two calicos waited to hear their name, they jump into Cora’s lap and settle.

She cups their heads with one hand each and soothes them, moving each of her thumbs between their eyes from their little noses up to the crown of their heads. They close their eyes in bliss and start purring.

In the van den Linden household, pets were never allowed. Later, my jet-setting lifestyle didn’t allow for one. I can see how these two are therapeutic.

“You don’t have to move out until you sort out whatever is going on, but finding you spread on my sofa every night like you’re waiting for something… I’m not sure I can help you, but I can sure as hell listen. Whatever it is, Saar, I won’t judge.”

She continues the thumb-petting motion, and somehow, it soothes me as well. One of the cats—I still can’t tell them apart—stretches his leg languidly. Fuck, I want to be a cat in my next life.

“My accountant embezzled money from me. I found out too late, and I’m pretty much broke. And probably owing taxes in two countries.”

I speak so fast, I almost trip over my own words. Like I need to spit it all out before I chicken out and keep the reality hidden deep down where it’s been eating me up.

Cora puffs out breath from her cheeks. “Fuck, Saar, I’m so sorry.”

I play with the melting pills in my hand. “Don’t be. I let other people deal with my finances, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I deserved it probably.”

“Stop it!” One cat jumps from her lap, probably disturbed by our conversation.You and me, buddy, you and me.

“Look, I don’t even know how bad it is yet. My manager is investigating. He’s coming to New York tomorrow, and I’ll know more. In the meantime, I really appreciate you letting me stay here.”

“Of course. I wish I had a guest room—”

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