Page 54 of Puck Drop
Something heavy falls to the ground, and I notice that I dropped the key fob. As I reach for it, I realize that I could just drive home, change, then come back closer to when Elizabeth is supposed to get here.
Feeling better now that I have a plan in place, I pick up my bag and take the three necessary steps to the stairs that would take me down to the parking lot and back to my car. I about jump out of my skin when I notice someone standing at the foot of the stairs.
“Elizabeth,” I call out to her, incredibly happy to see her. “I can’t believe you’re here. I locked myself out…”
Her eyes go up and down my naked torso before dropping down my legs and to my bare feet, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she takes one step at a time while moving as slow as one can. Her expression is closed off and she avoids any eye contact.
“Are you okay?” I ask when she makes it up to where I’m standing.
She doesn’t answer my question, but she doesn’t tell me off either. That’s a plus I suppose. When she unlocks the door, she steps in and leaves the door open, not even glancing back to make sure that I’m following.
As soon as I am inside, I drop my bag and key fob on the small table close to the entrance and follow her to the living room where I watch her dropping to the couch.
Before following her suit, I take a step into the kitchen to see what time it shows on the stove. My eyebrows go up in surprise when I realize that it’s not even three hours since she left for work. Convinced that something is off, I rush back to where she sits in silence, almost scared to say anything but knowing I have to.
“I didn’t expect you home this early, baby.” I let out a nervous chuckle, mostly because she doesn’t react. “I took a quick shower, then realized I didn’t have any clean clothes, so I ran out to my car. But then, I locked myself out of the apartment,” I laugh.
Elizabeth doesn’t react in any way. She continues staring at nothing as I continue running my mouth.
“I was standing there, wondering if I should run to my place until you were off work, then come back here,” I continue with my explanation.
I am at the point where I don’t know what else to add given that she’s not talking. I’m even scared to sit next to her, but then again, standing is awkward, too. It’s like I am this looming figure over her petite frame.
“Lizzie, you’re worrying me,” I confess. “What’s going on? Why are you home so early?”
She finally brings herself to look at me. At first, her face is impassive, and I don’t expect her to actually talk. But then, something happens. And it’s not good.
“I got fired.”
Her voice is so shaky when she gives me the news, I wonder if I heard her right. I drop to my knees in front of her, forcing her to continue looking at me.
“You what?”
Her mouth trembles under my watchful eyes while her eyes fill with so many tears, I don’t think she can actually see me anymore.
“They let me go,” she clarifies for me. “They didn’t think I was the right fit for the job.”
I don’t even know what to say to make her feel better. On one hand, she kept on saying how much she hated this job, so this should feel like a blessing. On the other hand, she was desperate not to lose her job because she needed the money. This is not good for her.
“Is it…” I clear my voice a couple of times. “Is it because you were late this morning?”
She nods and my heart sinks. “It wasn’t my first time, though. And they also said…”
Looking like she needs a moment, she takes a deep breath in that sounds like it’s meant to cleanse her very soul.
“They said I didn’t look happy, and that I was faking my excitement when talking to the players.”
I scratch at my head, completely at a loss for words. “Were you?” I ask.
“Was I what?” she snaps at me.
“Faking excitement.” I shrug my shoulders like it’s no big deal.
“You try talking about nutrition and calories in, calories out, protein and carbs all day long,” she wails. “Who in their right mind would be happy about it?”
The effort I’m making not to laugh at what she just said is hurting my jaw. I know she didn’t mean to be funny, but she is so adorable with how offended she is by the mere thought that anyone in this world would be happy to be a professional nutritionist.
She smacks me in the head with a decorative pillow. “It’s not funny!”
