Page 21 of A Convenient Secret
I try to think about them, because thinking about their father is super confusing. It makes me hot. It tingles between my legs. But mostly, it invades my mind with thoughts and images I have no right to think or picture.
It was easy to fantasize about him when he was just the voice. Even after I met him and realized he was the voice, he still felt like a fantasy.
But now? Now he’s real. Within twelve hourstoday, he looked at me, spoke to me, I spent a day in his house, I played with his children, and we had a moment.
I don’t even know if it was a moment, but I had an impact on him. This is going to be an endless week.
I unlock the apartment, exhausted and heavy with all that happened today.
“Here you are,” Mrs. Whitaker, in her typical pink robe, accosts me the minute I enter. “I thought you would make me starve.”
Shit. I forgot about the dinner. She scans me with narrowed eyes, searching for the takeout bag.
“I’m sorry. It was one of those days—”
“You’re just so selfish.” She sniffles and almost produces actual tears of hurt.
“Look, Mrs. Whitaker, I’m sorry—”
“You know, Lily, I think I need to find another roommate. Someone more considerate.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I will have to ask you to move out by Friday.”
I blink. “Our contract obliges you to give me a month’s notice.”
“Not if you break the tenant code of conduct.” She purses her lips, the small line around her mouth wrinkling more.
“What code of conduct?”
“You broke clause seven…” She names several made-up accusations while I tune her out.
She’s making everything up, but knowing her “sincere” personality, I don’t think I will get too far pointing out her lies.
“You’re really throwing me out because I forgot to get us takeout?” I try to appeal to her twisted common sense.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the code of conduct.” She maintains her ridiculous ploy. She really wants to taste that new restaurant.
“What if I went to get us that takeout?” I say, not because I want to eat or spend my evening in her company, but because I can’t be homeless. How would I even find a new place within days? On my budget, no less?
“I might consider it.” She lifts her chin.
I turn and march out.
What a day.
It takes me almost forty-five minutes before I trudge my feet back to my current home.
By the time I arrive, I’m so tired I don’t want to eat or talk. Not even shower anymore, even though I’m grossly sweaty.
“Ooh, what did you get us?” Mrs. Whitaker coos and pulls out two plates.
“Enjoy your dinner. I’m going to sleep.”
“Lily?” my landlady calls after me, but I’m already closing the door to my room. And I lock it.
My alarm goes off at five-thirty, and I spring out of bed. Mrs. Whitaker likes to sleep in, so if I’m lucky I’ll be able to shower and leave without running into her.
I take a quick shower and brush my teeth. Not bothering with my hair, I just towel-dry it. It’s hot outside, and it will be dry by the time I arrive in Manhattan. It’s not like I can shape it into any style at this point.
I put on a short, flowery summer dress with long, voluminous sleeves that gather at my wrists. The dress is way above my knees, but it’s been so hot. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I’m definitely not wearing it for Declan.
