Two, to be precise.
But when I step out of Elysium and the door slides shut behind me, I don’t feel the usual relief of leaving work. The building’s low hum fades into the background, replaced by the bustling sounds of the city, but none of it manages to quiet the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind.
August’s call two days ago still plays on a loop, each replay tightening the knot in my stomach.
What could have happened that it got that bad?
And what will happen to me when I go back home?
I’ve texted him at least four times over the last couple of days and even followed up with another email, but we’re back to him not answering me, and my worry for him is a persistent ache that refuses to subside.
Normally, I’d head straight home to try and distract myself with the AR project, like I did yesterday, but today, the thought of being alone with my thoughts is unbearable. I just know I’m teetering on an episode. And I don’t know if I could stop myself pulling my hair by just listening to a piano piece.
I need to feel the cold keys beneath my fingertips.
Without really deciding to, I find my feet carrying me in the direction of Mr. Donovan’s house.
As I walk, I pull out my phone and send him a text.
Good evening, Mr. Donovan. I hope you’re doing fine. I wanted to ask if the offer to come and play still stands. I would love a little time on your beautiful piano. I could be there in a few minutes. But I understand, of course, if it’s not the right time. Thank you so much. Amelia
I hit send, trying not to overthink it while my heart pounds with a mix of nerves and urgency.
It’s fine. I’ll just go play on Ivor if he’s not home.
My pace slows as I think about the day. Lunch with Oliver, Misha, and Grey was meant to be a break from the stress, and yesterday it worked. But even though they tried their best, showering me with the usual charm and concern, today it didn’t.
Oliver had caught on to my distraction. He’d asked if I was okay, his look full of genuine worry, but I brushed it off with a smile, not wanting to burden him with my stuff. I really hope he doesn’t think it was because of him. But what should I have told him? I need to go back home, and just the thought of getting closer than four thousand miles to my parents makes me want to scream.
On top of that, the weight of my boss’s words from earlier haunts me. I submitted a PTO request for my vacation days, and Dr. Cockwomble somehow saw the request and paid me a visit regarding it.
“I don’t think going on vacation is a good career move right now, given your current work ethic is not as it used to be.”
His voice was dripping with the power he holds over me.
It’s infuriating. After two years without a break, the idea that my time off could be used against me in my next employee appraisal just so he can show me who’s boss is almost too much.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the frustration that rises with every step. The itch to pull at my hair gets even stronger, urging my fingers to twist and tug. But I resist, clenching my hands into fists at my sides instead.
I need something to channel this energy into.
By the time I reach Mr. Donovan’s home, my phone buzzes with a reply.
Mr. Donovan
The door is open for you, dear.
Relief washes over me as I walk up the few steps to the doorway. I think about knocking, but he already knows I’m coming and said it was open, so I reach out and smile when I find the door unlocked.
Silence envelops me when I step inside. I slide off my shoes by the door, feel the cool floor beneath my feet, and call out hesitantly, “Hello?” My voice echoes slightly, the emptiness of the house amplifying the sound.
The only response is the patter of paws on the hardwood floor as Peanut comes sprinting down from the upper floor. He barrels into me with all the enthusiasm of a long-lost friend, and I can’t help but kneel to greet him.
“Hey there, Peanut,” I coo as I bury my fingers in his thick, fluffy fur. He wags his tail vigorously, leaning his warm body against mine.
I hug him close, pressing my face into his neck, which unexpectedly comforts me. Planting a gentle kiss on Peanut’s forehead, I whisper, “I need to play a little, buddy. I’ll come back and pet you some more afterward, okay?”
He seems to understand, settling down with a quiet huff as I stand and make my way to the living room.
