“Oh yeah, I like that one.” I don’t tell him that I usually flip the channel when a commercial comes on, but I do remember that particular one, catchy and not too annoying.
“Well, it’s work, right? Gotta pay the bills. I get paid every time it plays. Not much, but it all adds up.”
I nod again. “That’s great,” I tell him, not quite knowing what else to say. “Well, I should go. I have milk in here. Thankfully, no ice cream,” I joke.
“Sure, yes… you go and put away your groceries.”
I turn to leave, and when I reach the door, he calls out. “Will you come back soon?” he asks. “To help me out?”
Those intoxicating blue eyes, that amazing smile. How could I not? “For sure. Back in a jiffy.”
I was planning to read until supper time, but I’m sure this will be just as entertaining. As I busy myself stocking my cupboards and refrigerator, I think back to the day Daniel and I moved into this apartment, about seven years ago. Our place looked very much like Noah’s does now, save for the walls, painted burnt orange and mustard yellow and navy blue. We ate Chinese take-out on a blanket, surrounded by moving boxes. I remember that feeling of barely contained excitement. We had our whole life ahead of us. I thought of our lives as one back then, him and I, together forever. I’ve never been madly in love with Daniel, but he was a nice guy, stable and reliable, and not bad in bed. I told myself that I didn’t need all the sparks and fireworks. All they led to was heartache, as I had painfully learned with Gavin. Daniel was perfect husband material, and I just wanted to be taken care of, for the first time in my life.
“Are you as excited as I am?” Daniel asked as he dug into his chicken chow mein.
I stretched my legs and my eyes darted across the space. “More!”
He frowned. “We’re going to have to do something about these wall colors.”
“No!” I was quick to say. “I love it.”
He cocked a brow. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, I guess it is what it is.”
That was Daniel in a nut shell, easy-going and always eager to please me. That is, until the day he ran off with his secretary.
My stomach dips at the thought of Daniel. It always does. Unfortunately, he’s left a sour taste in my mouth, and I hate that.
I shake my head as I stack my library books on the coffee table, hours of entertainment right there. Do I even want a job? The problem is… I need the money. Yes, I get money from Daniel every month but it’s barely enough. I got the condo in the divorce since Daniel wanted to move in with Ella (the secretary) but the condo fees are pretty high.
I’ve moved many times over the years. I was only four years old when I first moved to the mobile park, and that day is my first ever memory. I thought the place was great, and I was particularly happy to have my own room. I asked my mom if we could paint it pink.
“We can paint it whatever color you wish, sweetie,” she told me. “This place is ours, not like our old apartment. We can do whatever we want.” My parents’ and my brothers’ faces were bright with joy. I have no recollection of where we lived before that, but it must have been a real dump. We were happy then. I’ll never know what happened to change that. Alcoholism… I suppose.
I moved to Chicago for college, and never looked back. I hopped from boarding room to dorm room, shared a small cramped apartment with friends, moved into a shoebox with Daniel, and eventually… Orchard Heights when Daniel finally got his high paying dream job. He was moving up in the world, and I was more than happy to follow him, finally having the things I’d only dreamed of as a kid; a nice home, a working car, and clothes that weren’t from a thrift store.
It’s funny what you remember. I was only four years old, and it was ages ago, but certain things will always stick with me. The smile on my mother’s face, the soapy smell of the freshly cleaned bathroom, the ladybug I found in my room, but most of all, Izzie.
I was tracing circles in the sand with a stick, drawing happy faces, when she walked up to me. As soon as I glanced up at her, I was mesmerized. She was a real-life doll; shiny golden hair, bright blue eyes, pretty red lips and a friendly smile. “Are you moving here?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied. I was not much of a talker back then.
She shuffled her feet, staring down at my happy faces in the sand. “What’s your name?”
“Abigail,” I told her, “but my family calls me Abby.”
“My name is Elizabeth,” she told me, “but my family calls me Izzie.”
“How old are you?”
“Four,” I told her.
“Me too!”
“You want to be friends?” she asked. I was new. I didn’t know anyone, and she was adorable. Of course I wanted to be friends.
“Yeah… I guess…” I replied shyly.
And that was that. We were inseparable from that moment on.
Abby and Izzie. Best friends forever.
