Page 85 of Our Broken Pieces
We walk into the house, dropping our bags in our rooms. Neither one of us has the energy to make dinner, so we place an order. Grabbing our laptops, we settle at the island, both of us opening up the mess that’s developed in the time we’ve been gone.
“Fuck, I have one-hundred-and-seventy-three emails.”
“One of my receptionists quit on Saturday.”
“I’m sorry.”
She leans over her laptop, face in her hands for a moment. Then she brings up a schedule. “I’m so sick of picking up other people’s slack.”
“Would you rather be raising chickens? What were their names? Harriet and Holly?”
She slaps my arm. “Josephine and Jackie.”
“That’s it.” I tap respond to an email. “Are you happy at the spa?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“Would you want to do anything else?”
I watch her fingers move on the trackpad. She pauses, like she’s holding something back, before saying, “I’m not sure.”
“Well, if you think of something, we could probably make it happen.”
She turns her head to look at me. “I’ll let you know if I get any ideas.”
When we were both ready for bed, we went to our separate bathrooms. I double checked my room to make sure there wasn’t anything out of place and got into bed and started reading the last few chapters I had left in my book. When I finally figured out she wasn’t coming up on her own, I went looking for her.
I knock gently on her door. “G? Can I come in?”
“Yeah?”
I open the door and see her and the cat laying in bed.
“Grab the cat.” She pulls the fat little animal to her chest, then I pick them up and carry them upstairs and place her on my bed.
“You want me here?”
“Yes.”
“Just for tonight?”
“No.” I climb into bed, turning my lamp off.
“You’re okay with Ethel in here?”
“You love that thing, so you’re a bit of a package deal.”
She nods, turns off the lamp, and scoots back into my arms, right where she belongs. Her soft skin meets mine and my mind goes quiet.
I wake up to my alarm going off. I don’t remember the last time I slept until my alarm on a workday. I try to open my eyes when I feel fur covering my face.
Ethel.
I grab in the dark for the furball draped against my head. She meows in protest as I gently move her to Gigi’s side of the bed and head to the bathroom. The cat leaps from the bed, beating me into the other room. Damn, the cat is fast.
“If you’re going to be in here, you have to behave.” She meows loudly, so I quickly shut the door and shush her. She sits perched on the vanity and watches my every move. It’s creepy as fuck. I turn on the shower, undress, and step under the water. I wash my hair, and when I open my eyes, the cat is sitting on the vanity staring at me through the glass shower door.
“Stop staring.”
