Page 5 of Fragile Touch (Fragile 1)
The cats wandered in later as she was covering up in bed. The music was still going strong next door.
“Come here, babies,” she called her pets, and they jumped onto the bed. “He’ll get the note tomorrow when he’s hungover. I’m sure he’ll understand. These loud weekends are going to be over soon.”
Chapter 2
The alarm on her phone blared almost directly into her ear. She flinched, and found herself hanging halfway off the bed. Tangled in the sheets, she threw her arm overhead, trying to find her phone to turn off that dreaded beeping. The cats, frightened by the sudden movement, leapt off the bed, their fur standing on end.
“Why is there so much noise lately!” she yelled, and slapped her phone a few times until the room was coated in silence again. She took a deep breath and pulled herself fully onto the bed.
“Sorry, babies,” she croaked at the two animals. “Bitch-lady is gone. I promise. Come back here. It’s okay.”
Cautiously, they jumped back up and were instantly asleep at her feet. How are they out so fast, like nothing ever happened? It amazes me every time.
She knew if she let herself lie there much longer, she would mess up her sleep routine and be sick. No way. I’m not in a mood to feel like hell today. Too much to do.
Cracking her neck, she calmly reached for her phone. The screen lit up, reminding her of the meeting with a high-profile woman named Jena Landing in 30 minutes.
Her heart stopped. “But today is Saturday.” Lillian sat straight up, swiping her screen and opening apps like a fanatic. “I never make appointments on Saturdays.”
An alert popped up on her screen, letting her know that her phone was about to die. She dismissed it, sure the calendar would open before she lost the last bit of power.
But the phone froze.
“No, no, no!” she yelled, scaring the cats again. Tapping on the phone furiously, she tried to will it to stay alive until she could figure out whether she had the meeting or not.
The phone went black.
“I’m dead if it’s in 30 minutes,” she howled, and dove off the bed. “Where’s the cord? Where’s the plug?”
Searching around the room frantically, she realized she’d left it in the kitchen yesterday. She flew around the corner and ran down the hall, intensely aware of every noise.
Her stomach
began to gurgle.
“Don’t even think about it,” she scolded her belly, pointing at it as if it were a disobedient child. “We’re not going to do this today.”
The cord was on the counter and she plugged her phone in, pressing and holding the power button as if her life depended on it. A battery icon popped up. Phone will turn on when battery reaches 5%.
“Thank bloomin’ goodness it’s a super charger.” In case she did need to meet with that woman in less than half an hour, she quickly put on some coffee and ran to the bathroom to wash her face. The phone was on when she returned.
I sure hope Jena doesn’t mind a fresh-faced organizational consultant, she thought, feeling overwhelmingly guilty for having totally forgotten about this meeting. Trying to stay calm, she unlocked her phone and opened the calendar.
Under the alert that had popped up, there was one word that she hadn’t noticed: Meeting Monday. Prepare folders today.
I can organize anything in other people’s lives, but I can’t even keep my own shit straight. In that moment, a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. After half a minute, however, the sensation of relief turned to a crippling wave of nausea.
“Oh, come on. I haven’t even eaten anything yet today.” Her intestines knotted up and she doubled over, clutching her stomach in agony.
This is too much.
Despite the smell of strong coffee wafting throughout the room, all her energy sapped. She sank to the floor, hugging her knees, wishing she would pass out so at least she wouldn’t have to feel the pain.
Black Cat paced into the room, looking sleepy, and stopped in front of the food bowl. He looked straight at her and meowed as he sat down. Gray Cat came in a moment after, sitting down right beside the black one. Both meowed at the same time, staring at her with their saucer eyes.
Lillian wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating or not.
The coffee maker in the corner beeped three times, announcing the pot was ready. Her phone buzzed as it fetched her emails that had come through last night. The trash can was overflowing, and from this angle down on the floor she saw the glass on the front door was cloudy with so many fingerprints.
