03
CRYING
. . .
My bed was surrounded by countless tissues.
As Dave broke the hard truth to me, I had nothing to do but cry it out. If the ex-owner fooled me and robbed all my money, I might’ve as well thrown it in the trash bin myself. How was I foolish enough to be robbed that way by a middle-aged man with a sickly-sweet smile? Did I have no sense? When I signed the papers, did I not feel anything off?
“Perrie, crying won’t solve anything,” Dave called behind the door.
What did he want from me? I was a silent crier; I couldn’t have bothered him. The idea I was living in his flat made me sick enough not to want to meet his eyes for a while. I wanted him as far away from my comfort zone as possible.
“I’m alright,” I yelled back, trying to keep my tone steady.
I heard him huff. “I cooked dinner. Come out to eat,” Dave said before I heard his slippers scurry away.
Cook? He knew how to cook then, but I didn’t. The only food I thought I’d eat for the night was the leftover crackers from the small packet I bought that afternoon. I didn’t expect him to know how to cook, yet there he was, beating me up with his contradiction to my expectations. More proof we were no match to share a house. I was thankful he gave me the room I needed, at least.
I went into the toilet and freshened up. When I deemed my face presentable enough, and my brown eyes weren’t as red anymore, I made my way out to check what he did. Although it was embarrassing to consider myself living in his place, I still tried to convince myself I had a share in that flat. I should keep my nose up high.
“Hey,” I announced my arrival in the kitchen. I doubted he heard my faint greeting though.
Dave was setting up plates and two cups of water. I was silently thankful the person I had to share the place with didn’t seem like a jerk so far. At least I was looking at the bright side. It couldn’t be that bad, right?
“Hey.” He spared me a glance before refocusing on his task.
“You didn’t have to prepare anything for me.”
“It’s called humane decency,” he retorted, sounding offended I expected less from him. “You sound as if you expect the worst from me. Wherever you came from, and whoever you’d been with before, don’t compare me to them.” He gazed up at me. Unlike me, his gaze didn’t waver, and his eyes didn’t glisten with fear.
I hummed, having no more words to say. I sat down by the designated kitchen island, opposite the guy, and grabbed my fork and knife. He had prepared mashed potatoes and two portions of steak. More than I could ever ask for. I figured he had been in the flat for more time than I thought because he had meat to cook already.
“Thank you,” I said, unable to look him in the eyes as I nudged the food with my fork.
“Enjoy.”
Dave ate neatly without talking to me. I didn’t try to initiate a conversation either, so the awkwardness grew thicker. When he was done, he immediately started washing his dish. Seeing him do that, I didn’t think he’d stand living with me… I was less meticulous than the guy, who I expected to be reckless. How ironic.
Dave rejoined me at the island. “So, we should report the previous owner to the police to get back your money.”
Right. I didn’t even think about that during my panicky state. “What is the process like?”
“You show them the contract, the money transaction report, and leave the rest for them. I’ll support your statement.”
“Canada is huge, so how will they find him?” I argued. “Is there a chance for me to win the case?”
He nodded. “You should try to know. It’s your hard-worked money, after all,” he quoted me.
Why did I feel the sneer in his voice? He couldn’t know how I gained the money to sneer anyway. No way—I was only imagining things. “Right. My hard-worked money…”
He glanced at my plate and asked, “Are you a slow eater?”
I shook my head and answered, “I just have no appetite.”
“I understand. Well, I’ll leave for bed now. I have work early at seven if you care to know.”
“Thanks again,” I repeated, but his reply was only a wave of his hand as he walked out the door.
In the morning, I couldn’t say I was okay, but I certainly was better.
I woke up at ten in the morning, left my bed, brushed my teeth, and took a shower. I unlocked my room and explored the flat. Dave was already gone. I locked my room’s door overnight just in case he had any ill intentions that I couldn’t feel yet. Not having anything else to do, as my new job didn’t start yet, I decided to work out indoors. After all, I had to stay in shape for the photoshoots, so the agency would keep me.
Reminiscing how hard I had tried to be accepted, a surge of energy coursed through my body. For me to secure the job I needed, I had to fit in. The requirements were to have a small waist, a generous bust size, and a peachy butt. As cringy as it sounded, it was actually written just like that in the job offer.
By noon, the cup of water I had drunk failed to make my stomach feel full any longer. I remembered I didn’t buy any groceries except for juice cartons and bottled water, but I was curious if my housemate differed. I opened the fridge and found eggs, sliced cheese, a bread loaf, and milk. In the freezer, I found frozen meats and instant meals.
That looked… prepared. He must have been in the flat for at least a week, and I hadn’t checked it for ten days prior, so that made sense. The fact there was already running water and a full fridge told me I had been fooled for far longer than I liked to admit.
Would Dave mind me cooking for both of us? I sucked at the activity, but I had to try it out of courtesy. What if I make a mess and burn the ingredients that I haven’t bought myself? That would be embarrassing. I realised I also didn’t have his phone number if I wanted to ask him anything. However, I still had to try, so I made a quick to the supermarket nearby and bought some ingredients.
Considering my minimum skills, I decided to cook something I was familiar with. Chicken strips with veggies—couldn’t be messed. I searched the cabinets for a skillet. The guy was also prepared in that department; I found oils and cutlery, too. I proceeded to chop the veggies, put them over medium heat, and then let them wilt under the glass lid. I cut chicken breasts and seasoned them with salt and pepper.
While I left the veggies to cook, my phone rang. My lips wore an instant smile, and my face brightened upon seeing the caller.
The agency.
A guy named Kevin replied to me and introduced himself from the agency. My stomach exploded in excitement and anticipation.
“Yes, hello, Kevin.”
“Your first appointment for a photoshoot has been scheduled for next week, Monday, in the agency’s main studios. Is that fine with you?”
The day was Friday as we spoke. That meant in two days.
My smile widened at the news. “Absolutely.”
. . .
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