Page 12 of In For a Penny
“Oomph!”
A wave of coconut scent hits me as Allie separates herself from me. Her dark, long hair is curled and shiny, hanging down her back. She’s wearing my favorite going-out top—I’ll have to talk to her about borrowing my clothes without permission later—and her signature berry-colored lipstick colors her lips.I look down and realize that the contents of my purse have spilled all over the floor.
Fuck this night.
“Oops! Sorry, girl!” She helps to pick up my wallet, keys, and Chapstick quickly. “Going out tonight to meet up with some friends. I’m so late! Don’t wait up!” Allie says. She kisses me quickly on the cheek and runs out to meet a car—her Uber.
Allie and I met in high school. We were part of the same friend group but never super tight. It wasn’t until I decided to move to London that we started talking more. She had been here two years already, so she was trying to give me tips on where to live, which realtors to use, etc. Having spent four years of college in the middle of nowhere in disgusting dorms, I refused to live in any type of school housing again.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford an apartment by myself in the city. I would have had to live in Zone 3 or even 4, which was a long way from campus. As my start date for school grew closer, she also had to find new living arrangements, which turned out to be great for me. We decided to move in together soon after.
Allie was able to find a relatively affordable two-bedroom apartment with a washer in-unit for us. In New York, having a washer in your apartment is how you know you’ve made it, so I was very impressed, even if we’re barely in Zone 2. Our East London apartment is ten minutes away from Canary Wharf, one of the UK’s most expensive neighborhoods, and fifteen minutes away from one of its poorest.
I’m excited to live in this new building with Allie. She’s someone familiar, so we can be open about many things but not too tight that things can turn into passive-aggressive roommate wars.
I make it upstairs and throw my purse and jacket on the couch.I notice that Allie has been cleaning and organizing since this morning—again. She’s either a stress cleaner or a neat freak.
Please let organizing be her coping mechanism, and it not be a habit.
I can’t deal with someone who is inherently a neat freak and has OCD. I am way too messy for that shit.
I pick up my jacket and purse and toss them on top of my bedroom vanity. Messes in my room don’t count, though—or they shouldn’t. Allie cannot make a big deal about my room. She isn’t even supposed to be in here. But as I pull out my PJs from my dresser, I notice my clothes have been neatly refolded in the Marie Kondo method.
What. The. Fuck.
I walk over to my closet and open it. All of my clothes have been organized and divided up into categories. My shoes have been nicely lined up at the bottom of my closet.
“Whoa,” I whisper under my breath. Is this Allie’s way of thanking me for just taking my top? Or did she find the top she was wearing tonight while she was organizing my closet and decided to borrow it as a thank you to herself? I don’t know how I feel about this.
This will be interesting.
I sigh and put on my PJs—finally. I wash off my makeup and brush my teeth, completing my nighttime ritual. I’ve never been one for a seven-step skincare routine.
An hour later and I’m still wide awake, thinking about my conversation with Oliver. It was the first time I ever admitted out loud that I thought Austin was lying to me and using the waiting game as an excuse.
But it all seemed so real.
I feel like my mind is about to explode, like I’ve lost a grip on reality. I was so sure about the strength of our love and our relationship that I never really questioned him until recently. Have I really been that obtuse?
I groan.
This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe I bought it!
I sit up quickly and turn on my light, pulling open my bedside drawer. I stick my hand in there and dig through it for a while until I find a worn-out envelope. It takes a bit to locate—I guess Allie hasn’t tackled this drawer yet.
“Read it when you need it most.”
I need to read this now. I need to read this now, feeling how I feel at this exact moment in time, but what am I looking for? Reassurance? Or maybe closure would be so much better. I can let go. But what if he doesn’t want me to let go? What if I let go and then hurt him and end up missing out on the love of my life?
I.
AM.
PATHETIC.
I open the envelope and take out the letter, ready to read it with this new perspective that I have accepted tonight.
Penny,
