Page 69 of Please Open Me
The cat hit the floor, paused like it was questioning its existence, and bolted.
The man sighed. “Fuck.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” the boy mumbled.
“It’s okay,mijo.” He ruffled the kid’s hair, like I wasn’t even there.
Should I run?
“Who’s at the door?” called a familiar voice—feminine, but not my Pipsqueak.
“I don’t fucking know!” he snapped.
“Daddy needs to put a quarter in the swear jar!” chirped the girl.
“Uh… this is for Mason,” I managed, offering the bag. “And I—”
“Oh, there you are!” The blonde from yesterday appeared and gently pushed the man aside. “This is Mason’s girlfriend. Maggie—”
“Mattie,” I corrected.
“Right. Mattie.” She turned to him. “Quit being rude.”
“Am I not allowed to ask strangers why they’re at our fucking house?” he shot back.
“Daddy has to put another quarter in the swear jar!” the little girl sang.
The man looked like he was five seconds from losing his mind. But then something softened, and a crooked smile twisted his lips.
“I don’t have to pay if I throw you in the trash,” he teased.
“Nooo!” the little girl squealed as he chased her inside.
Something strange and painful twisted in my chest.
“Sorry about that—kids,” the woman said with a shrug. “Take your shoes off. Mason’s downstairs, we're ordering pizza. You like pizza?”
Was this real life or a fever dream?
“I, uh… yeah. Pizza’s great.”
I slipped off my shoes and added them to the chaotic rack.
The door closed behind me.
Warmth settled over me like a blanket.
The house was the same—open and bright—but now that I wasn’t rushing to Mason’s room, I saw everything:
Framed photos.
A black cat dozing on a chair.
Laundry baskets and mismatched toddler shoes.
A life I didn’t expect.
“So… Mason is downstairs?” I asked, still stunned.
