Page 2 of Callan

I changed jobs twice, lived off my unemployment benefits in the summer––which was the worst since I was stuck at home and worked the phones to get a job interview––and had to downsize from a nice two bedroom apartment in the Bronx to a roomy one bedroom apartment in a three story building here in Brooklyn.

It’s a recently remodeled building with a fancy access control system, balconies, and a well-kept park a few blocks away.

Having a car is optional, which is great.

I can walk to the store, and take the bus or subway to work in Manhattan if Ieverget a job, and use a cab for everything else.

Little things, big steps.

This place costs less, and by not needing a car, I can save up some money when I start working.

Throughout the year, my finances have dwindled, and my self-worth has taken a hit, my personal life becoming a dumpster fire.

My love life hasn’t been any better.

It annoyed the hell out of me that Quinn cheated on me with a coworker at the Christmas party last year and then had the nerve to blame it on me.I didn’t ask him to chat her up and fuck her in the bathroom.

I also didn’t ask him to meet up with her several times before I finally caught them in the act and broke up with him.

The few times I went on dates this year ended in disaster.

A jock, a teacher, and a painter were the bane of my existence.

Yeah. That’s right.

We didn’t make it to bed for a variety of reasons.

Sex was everything the jock was talking about, yet it never happened.

And sex was the last thing on the teacher’s mind.

The painter had a few random thoughts about it but he got easily distracted by his canvas, easel and too many painting brushes.

So, I’m in debt up to my eyeballs.

I’ve had no man in my bed for almost a year.

And I’m waiting for some company to get back to me and let me know if I’ll be able to pay my bills next month.

“How are things with you?” I ask as she tips her eyes down as if peering at something.

She flicks her eyes up.

“Things are okay,” she says. “I’m hoping to receive a Christmas bonus this year.” She makes a face at me, amused. "What can I say? I’ve spent it already,” she says, a smile glinting briefly across her lips before her eyes evade mine again. “I ran into Quinn,” she adds, staring down again, a concerned look darkening her expression–– as if telling me about him is a hurdle for her.

“Quinn??” I blurt out.

She lifts her gaze and stares at me.

“Why is that even news?” I go on.

A faint smile tinged with resentment claims her lips.

“He got married,” she says dryly.

It’s good that I’m sitting on the sofa, or I’d probably need to take a seat just about now.

Why is that even important?

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