Come Right In
Elyse
“Fuck you!”
That was the last thing I’d said to my ex. It’s also what I just shouted at the Honda that cut me off thirty minutes into my drive.
I crank the loudest song I can find and sing along at the top of my lungs. A man eyes me slowly from the passenger side of another car at a red light, but I couldn’t care less. The light changes, and the music cuts quieter just as the beat is about to drop. I glance down at my screen.
Jackson: listen, if you’re pretending to leave just to come back, can you at least pick up toilet paper? we’re out.
“Oh, fuck you.” I scoff, rolling my eyes.
I unplug my phone, which somehow does absolutely nothing to stop the messages from coming through.
Jackson: and dish soap.
It’s my lucky day. You’d think dish soap wouldn’t be fighting words. Toilet paper. Dish soap. That’s what I’m furious about right now.
You’d think I’d be mad at the fact that Jackson forgot our anniversary for the third time, or that, when I finally told him I was leaving, he laughed and asked where I thought I was going to go.
Or maybe I should still be angry about six months ago, when my best friend went into labor four weeks early, and I practically dragged Jackson out of bed to come to the hospital with me.
“Can you stop somewhere and get balloons?” I’d asked him on the way out. “And maybe a card? Something that says congratulations. I don’t want to show up empty-handed.”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
He forgot.
He showed up at the hospital three full hours later with a coffee for himself and nothing for her. I bought a card for her the next morning.
I think that was the beginning of the end.
Packing up and moving out was quick. I never own anything I can’t pack up into the back of my car if I have to. I limit my life to what can fit in three suitcases, plus one weekender. It’s a good thing. Nice, even. Convenient. So, I packed up and told him I was leaving. It felt like I could breathe again, just for a moment. And now, I’m mad all over again over something so small.
Toilet paper and dish soap. That’s the thing that’s going to make me lose my mind.
I stare at the message until the words blur. I blink hard and turn the music back up.
I pull into the restaurant parking lot with fifteen minutes to spare before closing. Fifteen minutes is plenty of time for a pickup.
I grab my phone and head inside. The restaurant is mostly empty. A few people are finishing up at tables, and someone behind the counter is wiping down the grill.
“Hi,” I say. “I’m picking up an order for Elyse.”
The woman behind the counter smiles and types something into the register.
“What’s the name?”
Girl, I just said my name.
“Elyse.”
She checks the screen. “Yeah, we made that one.”
“Great.”
She points toward a shelf along the wall. “It should be over there.”
I walk over and scan the bags. None of them have my name. I check again, looking for initials even. Nope.
I glance back at the counter. “It’s not here.”
The woman frowns and comes over. She checks the bags herself, then looks at the screen again. “Huh.”
She calls someone over. They check the shelf, then the counter.
Finally, the woman looks at me. “Someone must have picked it up," she winces.
I take a step away from the pickup shelf.
Some son of a bitch stole my food.
Of all the things I have been through today, this feels like the one thing I should be allowed to have.
I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I just left my boyfriend. Paulette was up my ass all day today at work. I drove all the way here, screaming at a Honda in the process, mind you. All while Jackson texted me about toilet paper and dish soap like I’d gone on a grocery run instead of leaving our relationship. And now, some stranger is chowing down on my chicken parmesan for free. My chicken parm that I paid for.
This is it. I might lose it today.
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath.
The woman looks apologetic. “We can remake it.”
I glance toward the clock.
7:49. One of the employees is already stacking chairs.
“Oh, no. It’s okay.”
“It won’t take long.”
“I know. I just… you guys are closing.”
“We still have ten minutes.”
“That’s not really enough time to make food,” I say. “It’s just... I feel bad.”
“I really don’t mind. You’ve been nice about it.”
“I’ll just take the refund.” I give her a tired smile.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
My stomach grumbles. I ignore it. I stand beside my car and look at my phone. No new messages from Jackson. A miracle. I click on the address to the room rental instead. I booked it last minute for a month only, just until I figure out what I’m going to do. I’m waiting for word about a job interview I had a week ago, so I can’t afford to plant roots anywhere anyway.
Taylor, the woman who owns the place, seemed nice when I messaged her about her parking. The reviews were good, said Taylor was super friendly and the pictures look great. It’s enough for now.
Taylor’s house is another twenty minutes away. Twenty minutes until l have a bed, a clean room with a door I can close and not be bothered by a man asking anything of me. Forget dinner; I’ll go hungry tonight.
I get back into the car. Twenty minutes later, I pull into the driveway. The house is prettier than it looked in the listing. It’s a cute little mid-sized home wrapped in stone with white shutters. The door is oval and painted baby blue. It's actually incredibly cute.
This feels like the first good thing that’s happened all day. I immediately get out, grabbing two of my bags and rolling them up to the door.
For the first time since I walked out of my old apartment, my shoulders loosen. The listing had said to knock. So, I do.
Footsteps approach from inside, and then, the little sky blue door swings inward.
A man stands on the other side. His dark brown hair is faded neatly, and he’s wearing a blue t-shirt, jeans and socks.
“Hi.” He looks at me with a polite smile. “Elyse?”
I stare at him. “Hi. I’m looking for Taylor?” My eyebrows move closer together.
“I'm your guy. Good to meet you. Come right in,” he steps back, gesturing toward the inside of the house.
Oh.
That’s Taylor.
He’s Taylor.
Taylor is a man.
Of course Taylor is a man.
This could only ever happen to me. I’d packed my bags and driven halfway across town to get away from one man and immediately booked myself a room with another.
How convenient.
