“Enjoy it while you can. When I get back, you’re being evicted.” Nix said that this place was mine, and I intend to enjoymy solitude. After nearly three months of living with my brother, I’m dying to have a little space to myself.
It takes a bit of effort, but I find a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt in one of the boxes. Sending these ahead was a stroke of genius on Russ’s part. Even I’m not low-maintenance enough to live out of the two suitcases the airline allows.
A few minutes later, I step outside and squint into the sun. It’s still a bit cool outside, the perfect temperature for an easy jog around the town. If this is the usual, it’s a huge benefit to living this far north. Back in North Carolina, it’s typically already hot as balls by this time.
Out front, I take a right in front of the store. I have no idea where I’m going, but I figure I’ll take a different route every day this week until I figure out the best paths. The town is small enough, I’m sure I’ll find my way around without too much trouble. Should I have checked a map earlier and made a plan? Perhaps, but this way is more fun. Besides, with nothing else to do, it’s not like there are consequences if I’m back a little bit later.
Well, other than the cat making himself even more comfortable.
Sleighbell Springs is exactly how I imagined. Full of Christmas spirit. In fucking June. Garlands, twinkly lights, and mistletoe are all fantastic—in December, where they belong. What’s the point if they’re up all year round? Then it’s not special.
Something tells me I’m going to need to work on my poker face. I can’t be making faces every time someone mentions something.
Well, there’s one more thing to add to my growing list of things to do while I’m here.
Find a job
Figure out where to live
Work on a poker face
It’s not particularly long or interesting, but it’ll do.
An hour later,I’m drenched in sweat, thirsty, and back in front of the bookstore. It’s still a while before anyone in this sleepy town will be out on the streets. Seven used to be when I arrived in the office, beating many of my coworkers, but solidly there after many others. Now, it’s just early enough that I have no idea what to do with myself.
After a few minutes of stretching in the alley, I climb the stairs to the studio apartment. The cool air hits my face, and I breathe a sigh of relief before chugging a glass of water. As a stopover location, this isn’t so bad. The Christmas theme isn’t my thing, but I can live with it. Temporarily. The apartment is bland, but it’s mine for the time being. Well, except for the cat.
Onmypillow.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, and a message from Nix appears.
Nix Jansen
That’s Nick, he lives in the bookstore. He must have slipped up the stairs last night. You can shoo him out if he’s bothering you. Nick’s a big softie, though. You’ll like having him with you.
No. No, I will not. Cats are ridiculous. I’d love to have a dog. Preferably one big enough to go for runs with me. The dog could sleep on the bed. At the foot, of course.
“Okay, Nick. Time to go.” I hold the door to the staircase open while I stare straight into Nick’s eyes, waiting for him to move.
Nick blinks a few times before giving me a look of contempt and falling back to sleep.
“Nope, I live here. Not you.” I walk to the bed and give him a light shake. Nothing big, just enough to rouse him.
The cat huffs and curls into an impossibly tight ball.
“Fine, but only for this morning.”
NIX
These game nights fuel my soul. Seeing members of the community from all walks of life come together in my shop fills me with immense gratitude. Sleighbell Springs has given me so much over the years, taking me in as one of their own when I was lost and grieving, that I want to give back as much as possible. This is one of the small ways I’m able to do that, by being a safe space for people to gather with no expectations.
These nights also leave me exhausted. Unlike when the silent book club meets, the tabletop folks tend to be a bit rowdy. They aren’t hurting anything, but they do make a lot of noise and leave the place looking a little worse for wear, which means a decent amount of cleanup before I can open tomorrow.
Tomorrowis not that far away. In the early days, I’d leave and deal with it in the morning. Except the version of me who wakes up tomorrow morning won’t want to do this anymore than I do right now. Worse, doing it in the morning means leaving my cozy bed and getting here early enough to do both the usual opening tasks plus this. There’s nothing worse than beingon my hands and knees under the table, ass sticking up in the air, when the first customer of the day walks in.
I take a few minutes to pick up the stray game pieces and cards littered around the tables. It looks like it was a rousing game. Not that I needed further proof of that than the whooping and hollering I heard toward the end of their two hours.
Based on what I’ve heard from my friend Kyler, who owns Yuletide Yarn, crafters are even worse. At leastTicket to Ridedoesn’t include glitter. Accounting for each individual card is a pain, though. A few times, people have run off with one or two of them in their pockets.
