Page 3 of Worth the Try
An hour later, I’m off the MARTA and unlocking the door to my tiny duplex, letting out a grateful sigh that the only roommate I have is of the four-legged kind.
My calico Cleo, short for Cleocatra, looks up from her spot on the couch and stares at me with a distinctly feline expression.
“Yeah, I know,” I sigh, letting the box fall with a thud on the parquet floor and kicking off my shoes before padding over to her. I drop onto the cushion beside her and let myself sink, both physically and metaphorically. “I got fired today. Me. Fired.” Cleo regards me, and just when I think she’s going to give me some pity with those lime-green eyes of hers, she throws a back leg into the air and bends down, going back to cleaning herself.
“Love you, too,” I mutter, then shoot an SOS text to Kari.
When the knock comes on my door not even half an hour later, I smile. Leave it to my bestie to drop everything and come to my rescue. I peel myself off my couch and cross the room, already talking.
“I’m thinking nachos and—Mr. Brown?”
My landlord and neighbor stands before me, his shoulders hunched, his mouth drawn into a tight, rueful smile. “Heard you over here. Early day at work?”
I fight the lump in my throat. “Something like that.” No need to tell him I was canned. I’ll have something sorted out by the time rent is due—and besides, Fore Gone promised a six-month severance.
He nods. “Well. Figured I better come and get this over with.”
I battle the sinking feeling in my chest and force yet another smile onto my face. “Would you like to come in? Where’s Mrs. Brown? I can make some tea.” I open the door wide and gesture.
The old man simply looks at me. “My daughter’s coming home.”
“Tyra? That’s amazing!” I gush, genuinely happy for him. “Gosh, how long has she been gone?”
“She needs the place.”
I blink rapidly, unwilling to accept what I’m certain he’s saying. “Do you want some help with a welcome home party? I bet she’d love that. Streamers? Balloon art? I know the perfect person?—”
“She’s going to move in here, Elodie. To your place.” His voice is kind, but firm.
No.No.This can’t actually be happening. There is no way that I am losing my jobandmy home on the same day. I have done everything right. I was an honor student. I played flute in the band. I did pageants until I wanted to scream, because my mom wanted it. I went away to school on a scholarship and came back home. I got a job. Ikeptthat job. I met a man and planned a future, and when that went to hell, I got my own place. I have a pet. I am thirty years old. This isn’t happening.
“Here?” I squeak. I sound like a mouse.
He swallows. “Here.”
“But—but my lease?—”
“Expired last year, and you’ve been month-to-month ever since,” he interjects. “Which means I only have to give you a month’s notice.”
My mind whirls. I can’t call my parents. I won’t face the crushing weight of condescending disappointment on my mother’s face at yet another of my perceived failures and carefully neutral expression on my father’s. They may live within the greater Atlanta area, but I’d rather walk naked down I-20 in the boiling heat at rush hour before asking them for anything.
So. I’d like to scream now.
Right now.
Like, open my mouth and let out the most ear-piercing scream that anyone has ever scrumpt. And I don’t even care if that’s proper English.That’show much I need to scream.
I begin to close the door in Mr. Brown’s face, my body on a mission, even if my manners are not.
“Elodie?” he asks.
“Mm?” I keep shutting it.
“You understand, right?” Only an inch of his face is visible now, his eyes narrowed in what might be concern. “You have one month.”
I flash him a smile. A nice, bright one.
Then I slam the door.
