Page 9 of Nova

“No. I’m sorry, Mom, but I will not go back to a man who doesn’t give a shit about me.” Mom snorts.

“Grow up, Simone! Men only use women for money and sex. True love is a fairytale.” My eyes widen in shock.

“Do you even hear what you are saying?” I always wondered where Sandra got it from.

Then it hits me.

“Dad isn’t cutting me off if I don’t take Tyler back. You are.” The line goes quiet.

“Mother of the year, you are.” I hang up and throw my phone on the couch.

It rings back to back for hours until it finally dies.

I sit on the floor and allow my pussies to purr and play around me. They love me unconditionally, like my fucking parents should. I cry and then get angry all over again.

When I’m ready to move, I go over to the pile of mail that prompted me to call Mom in the first place. A pale yellow card with cute bees in the shape of a beehive.

A gender reveal party.

It’s in three days, and I have no intention of attending it or the surprise baby shower Mom is planning. I want nothing to dowith Tyler, Sandra, or Mom. They can all live out this drama on their own, far away from me.

I plug in my phone to charge it, and when it restarts, I try to call to order Pizza, but the call won’t connect. I grab my laptop and, go to the phone website, and stare at the notice on my screen flashing at me.

Account closed.

I checked all the accounts I had with my parents one by one. They are all closed. Thank God my apartment, car, and internet are corporate-paid, so I can still work.

“She was serious.” I shake my head as I order a new phone to arrive tomorrow.

I didn’t need them to fund me, but it was nice while it lasted.

After my personal account takes a nice financial loss to regain my own complete independence from my parents, I actually feel pretty good. It’s done.

I’ve cut all ties.

My pizza arrives, and I feed my pussies while I munch on a slice. I pull up my schedule for the week and frown. My employee access isn’t working. I switch to my email and gasp when I find an email from my father’s security.

I open it and scream.

“FUCKING FUCK!” He fired me.

My own fucking father has terminated my position. I’m to turn in my laptop, car, and apartment keys on Monday morning. What am I going to do now?

I look up at my vision board.

The sleek black card stock of a business card peaks out from behind a photo of my perfect house mocking me. I stand and pluck it out as an idea forms in my head. I smile as I sit down and start an email to Dad’s office.

When I’m done typing, I hit send.

Within an hour, all my access was back up and running. I quickly dialed the card number before I lost my nerve and left a message.

“Hi, this message is for Mr. Deacon. We met in a bar in Vegas. God, that sounds like a pickup line, but we did. Hopefully, you recall. Anyway, I am in need of your services, and it’s rather urgent that I speak to you. Can you give me a call?” I rattled off my number and almost hung up without saying who it was.

“It’s Simone, by the way. I swear I have an excellent phone etiquette when I’m not in distress. Okay, bye.” I hang up and sag on my couch like I just ran a marathon.

“Wow, that was stressful,” I speak to my pussies like they’re my children, because they are.

All four of my precious babies come meowing to cuddle up to me. They always know when I need them.

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