Page 14 of Kiss Me Softly

The kitchen appliances were a little older but in good condition, and when I walked over to the counter I saw that the super had left a ‘welcome to the building’ card along with a small box of candy and a mini bottle of champagne. It was a nice touch.

“That’s so sweet,” I said, pointing it out to Frankie.

“Yeah, Jimmy the super is a good guy,” she said. “He’s been working for the landlord for years and they take good care of their tenants. It’s why they so rarely have turnover here.”

Frankie pointed to the bags we’d dragged up the stairs.

“How about we unpack your stuff, then I’ll introduce you to my favorite neighborhood bar?” she suggested. “I can tell by the look on your face that you’ve had a rough day.”

I huffed out a breath, wondering if she could tell I’d been crying in the Uber on the way over here.

“Yeah, suffice it to say that Chris didn’t take the news of my moving out very well.”

Given the way they’d reacted, I was glad I decided to wait and break the news to them the day I was moving out. There was no way I could have stayed in that house after all the terrible things Chris said to me.

Even their mother had gotten in on the act, screaming at me the entire time I packed my stuff to leave. I was pretty sure that the older woman would have taken a swing at me if she thought she could’ve gotten away with it. She’d never liked me.

Frankie stepped closer and pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around her and relaxed for the first time in weeks. Her head fit right underneath my chin, the smell of her coconut shampoo filling my nose.

“Today is the first day of your new life,” Frankie said brightly as we pulled apart. “Now unpack your shit so we can start drinking.”

Frankie

The next few weeks fell into a rhythm. Aurora and I continued our regular texting, but with her living right on top of me now, we were free to hang out more.

The day after she moved in I went with her to look for some items she needed for her new apartment. The two of us ended up dragging a wooden chest from an antique shop six blocks away in order to save the delivery fees, nearly killing ourselves getting it up to the third floor.

A few nights a week one of us would invite the other to come for dinner. We’d either cook together or order takeout and watch a movie or just talk. I’d never been much of a conversation person, and having to talk all day as a teacher made me want to talk even less outside of work. But with Aurora I could talk all night and still want to do it some more.

When Aurora joined a yoga studio in our neighborhood she dragged me along, insisting that now that we were approaching thirty it was more important than ever for us to stay flexible. I bit my lip to keep from suggesting that the right kind of sex could help with our flexibility too.

Then I reminded myself that I had a girlfriend, although I’d seen Barbie only three times since Aurora moved upstairs, all of them in public. Meanwhile I’d seen Aurora for at least a little while every day since she’d moved into my building.

“I really need to break up with Barbie,” I said one night as we sat on Aurora’s fire escape drinking a beer and staring the glimmer of the lake in the distance.

“You really do,” she agreed. “You don’t seem to like her very much, and it’s not like you spend a lot of time together.”

I bumped my shoulder against hers. “That’s because someone is always insisting that we order Chinese takeout.”

Aurora loved Chinese food. I swear she could eat it every single day.

“She could join us if you really wanted her to,” she said, although I could tell by her tone she was unenthused about that idea.

“Barbie doesn’t like carbs,” I said.

That was another thing I didn’t like about my girlfriend – her constant diet and food talk.

“She sounds like my mother,” Aurora said.

“What’s up with you and your mother?” I asked. “You never mention her. Is she still with your dad?”

“Yeah,” Aurora nodded. “They’re high school sweethearts. They’ve been together for like forty years now. My mom is… well, she was the head cheerleader in high school and the prom queen too.”

“You were a cheerleader,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, but I never really liked it that much. It was a way for me to connect with my mom, you know? She wanted this perfect daughter who always had perfect hair and perfect makeup and the perfect body and I did my best to make myself into what she wanted.”

“And?” I prodded.

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