Kenzie’s crap is stacked neatly in her bedroom, waiting for someone to retrieve it. Reed said he’d handle it if she doesn’t show. Most likely, in a bonfire. Shep said he’d bring themarshmallows and laughed about it like it held some deeper meaning.
My one last act of service to the sham of a friendship I had with Kenzie was packing her belongings.In the worst boxes I could find. Stuffed until they bulge. Sealed with the cheapest painter’s tape on the market. And without any packing cushion.
It’s entirely possible I spilled some of her shampoo and shower wash gel onto her electronics. Allegedly, I emptied the meat and cheese drawer from the fridge into one box for some razzle-dazzle. With any luck, it’ll be a good long time before she gets around to opening it, thus it’ll be filled with more than rotten food. I wish I could take a picture of her face when she cuts through the tape and unleashes those little trash bugs or maggots.
Ick.
Couldn’t happen to a more deserving soul.
“Ready to go, cookie?” Reed shouts from the front room.
I grab the last item worth taking from my bathroom—which honestly should have been the first.“Yep. Coming.”
For the record, this hallway wasnotthis dirty before the boxes started getting hauled off.
“I’ll get that for you,” he says, already swiping my towel warmer.
“Be careful with her,” I tease. “She’smy preciousss.”
Snickering, he presses a tiny kiss on the tip of my nose. “And you’remyprecious.”
Walking to my car, a lone peacock squawks with an almost mournful tone. Or maybe it only sounds sad to me.
Matt.
The lone survivor that my neighbor was never able to capture.
I whip my head toward the source of the sound, hoping to see him one last time. No dice. Even at his size, he’s not always easy to spot.
I’m finally walloped with that sorrowful nostalgia I expected to find inside the apartment.
It was never in there, though.
What I’ll miss most about living here are my feathered friends. The evening strolls I made through the complex with a bag of seeds, chasing off the squirrels until the birds had a go at my offerings.
I’ll miss the annoyingly sweet peahen screeches in the early morning hours. The bizarre honking sound they’d make outside my window when they wanted to be fed.
Somehow, they always knew which bedroom was mine.
A gust of wind rustles through the trees, shaking loose a bevy of leaves. They flutter around me, dancing in the lingering wind before landing on the concrete. I’ll pretend that’s nature’s way of wishing me a fond farewell.
My new home isn’t surrounded by trees. In fact, the few I recall seeing are in tiny patches along the sidewalk, surrounded by tacky metal fences. I might need to take up rat feeding for my evening walks through the city.
Shudder.
On second thought, I’ll find a park near downtown. Being a bird lady is one thing. A rat lady is grounds for mental health intervention.
I finally abandon the hope of one last peacock sighting, finding Reed leaning against the side of my car. All the other vehicles loaded with my stuff have vanished. I guess the others got tired of waiting and drove ahead.
“You’re riding with me?” I ask him.
He opens the driver’s door for me, flashing double dimples without a permit. “Of course.”
My smile snaps into place on its own volition, a familiar mask I’m sure he’ll see through if he looks closely. I guess I’m still bummed out about not seeing my big, beautiful boy.
“What’s wrong?” He blocks the open car door. “Don’t give me one of those fake smiles.”
Dang it.
