#web series
(Episode Notes
Content warning for depictions of anxiety
Image Credits
Photo by Phil DesforgesonUnsplash
Photo by Vaishnav ChogaleonUnsplash
Photo by Patrick TomassoonUnsplash
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Olivia stood in line at the New Winslow House of Pizza, wondering if this was a mistake. It was one thing to talk ghosts when neither of them were working and both in a neutral place. It was an entirely different thing when she was invading Celine’s workplace.
Not to talk right now, she tried to reason with herself. To ask if it would be alright to talk later on. And she didn’t have Celine’s phone number, after all. So this was the only way she could reach her.
Plus, Mia loved pizza. So this was a convenient excuse to pick up pizza for dinner for the two of them and whichever friends happened to be around. Andrew was likely to be there if he wasn’t at Iris’s. Cleo tended to be in town a little more these days, maybe she’d drop in. And Noah…
She’d rather just not think about it.
She rolled Mia’s stroller back and forth absently as she waited in line. Mia chewed on her fingers and reached for the brightly colored chip bags on the rack beside them.
“Olivia, hi!”
Roman was running the cash register when she reached the front of the line. “Hi,” she said, trying to push down her nerves.
He leaned over the counter and smiled at Mia. “Hi Mia,” he said, waving. “What can I get you two?”
“Um, two large cheese pizzas please. And an order of fries. Um, small.”
Roman punched the order into the register. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s it. Um, to go.”
He took her credit card and ran it through the machine, then handed her a receipt and a pen. “I actually was wondering if Celine is working tonight,” Olivia said as she scribbled down her signature.
“No, she’s home with the kids,” Roman said as he picked up the receipt and slid it under the counter. “Why? What’s up?”
“I just had a couple questions to ask her,” Olivia said, suddenly conscious of how much she was shifting around.
“Sorry,” Roman said, and he looked like he meant it. “Anything I can help with?”
“No,” she said. Then glancing around, she added in a lower voice, “It’s, um, ghost related?”
Olivia cringed, waiting for Roman to roll his eyes. But instead, he just nodded.
“Seems to be the theme of the week,” he said.
He pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen and handed them to her. “Give me your number and I’ll pass it on to her.”
“Thank you so much,” Olivia said, writing down her phone numbers. “I don’t have cell service all the time at home so I put both my cell and landline.”
“Perfect, I’ll give that to her tonight.”
Roman tucked the paper into his pocket. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Nope, thanks.”
He smiled broadly and for a second, she was almost flustered. She smiled back, then took her copy of the receipt.
“Give us fifteen minutes on the pizza,” Roman said. “I’ll call you up.”
—————————————————
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
Shit, she’d thought Edie was asleep. Cleo quickly wiped her eyes and looked up at Edie, who was standing in the kitchen doorway, squinting in the dim light. “Nothing,” she lied.
Even she wasn’t able to convince herself that it sounded real and not like she’d been crying for the past half an hour.
Edie stepped into the room, their sheer bathrobe shifting over the sleep shorts and tank top they’d worn to bed. They wrapped their arms around Cleo, who closed her eyes and leaned against Edie’s warm stomach.
“Cleo,” Edie said softly, running a hand through her hair. “What’s going on?”
She sighed and sniffed. “It’s just…I’m so tired.”
She half expected Edie to try to bring her to bed at such an obvious statement. But instead they let go and pulled out the chair next to Cleo. They sat down, gripping Cleo’s hand.
“You’re working too hard,” Edie said.
They said it neutrally, no trace of judgment or pity. Cleo nodded. There was no point in denying it.
“But I have to,” she said. “I quit my job and I can’t find another one. If I don’t work as much as I do, I’m going to get evicted.”
“I know.”
“And I’m spending every hour I’m not here or at my mom’s working shifts. And when I’m at my mom’s, I’m too stressed to enjoy our time together and we just fight over her memory anyway. And Andrew’s still stuck. And every time I go there I risk getting stuck too. I don’t know what to do, Edie.”
“How much time is left on your lease?”
That wasn’t what Cleo had expected to hear. She thought for a second. “It’s the end of September,” she said. “So a little under three more months.”
“Would you consider going somewhere else?”
“I don’t think there’s anything cheaper in Boston, honestly.”
Edie was silent for a second. Cleo sniffed. Her eyes were still stinging a little, but she felt like maybe she was done crying for now.
“I guess I just keep applying for jobs,” she said. “This is temporary. I just have to suck it up for a little while longer.”
“Hopefully something comes along soon,” Edie said.
They leaned over and kissed Cleo softly on the temple. “I want to help,” they said. “Cleo, you mean so much to me. I know it hasn’t been that long, but anything I can do to make things easier, please just tell me.”
Cleo closed her eyes and squeezed Edie’s hand. “Thank you,” she said, unsure what else to say. “That means a lot to me.”
They sat quietly for a moment in the dim kitchen. Then Edie yawned. “Back to bed?” they asked.
“Yeah,” Cleo said. “Yeah, I think I could sleep now.”
Without letting go of Cleo’s hand, Edie stood up, then tugged Cleo to her feet. Cleo was a head taller than Edie, but Edie pulled her up easily. “Come on,” they said. “Let’s get some sleep. I’ll make us breakfast in the morning before you leave. What time’s your shift?”
“I signed up for a ten am,” Cleo said. “But it’s in Boston, so I’ll have to head out a little early.”
“That’s no problem,” Edie said. “I’m working at nine-thirty, so we’ll head out the same time.”
Cleo’s stomach was still heavy at the thought of working tomorrow, but it felt a little lighter just being here with Edie for tonight.
———————-
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(Show Notes
Content warnings for addiction discussion, anxiety, and sexual content.
Image Credits
Photo by Andres SiimononUnsplash
Photo by Endlich GrünonUnsplash
Photo by Kitera DentonUnsplash
Photo by Michael WalkonUnsplash)
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The plants were dying in their containers. Noah had picked them up at the hardware store a couple days earlier as a kind of peace offering for Olivia. She’d mentioned a while back that it might be nice to have a garden one of these summers. But after one attempt at lifting a shovel to plant them, his wrist had given out and Noah had given up for the night. The night had turned into three days in the July sun and now the plants were wilted and burned as they leaned against the woodpile.
He ran a finger over one of the leaves, ignoring the throbbing pain in his wrist as he did so. It was fine, the whiskey he was planning to drink as soon as he finished planting them would numb that. And it’d go away on its own soon enough. It had only been a few months since he’d fallen off the ladder and it wasn’t that bad of an injury in the first place.
Noah picked up the shovel and got to work, scooping rocky soil out of place. Sure, the plants were dying. But if he could get them in the ground now and get some water on them, they’d be fine. They just needed a little care.
He continued to dig, ignoring the way his head seemed to be throbbing in time to the pain in his wrist. Almost done. Three plants and then that would be finished.
The blade of the shovel hit a large stone he hadn’t noticed, stopping short and jarring Noah’s injured wrist. He dropped the shovel, swallowing down a scream of pain.
Nope, this wasn’t happening. He’d finish later.
Holding his arm as still as possible, Noah started walking toward his back stairway. As he passed Olivia’s deck, he saw Mia’s little face in window of the screen door. She had her fingers in her mouth and she was chewing them thoughtfully as she looked out into the backyard.
He waved with his good hand. She blinked at him, then turned and toddled away from the doorway.
Noah nodded to himself. He deserved that.
——————————————
Roman took a sip of coffee and tried not to shudder too openly. The coffee that the Congregational Church provided on meeting nights was terrible, but free. And he wasn’t going to turn down a free coffee. Not after the stretch of late nights he’d been working.
He’d read every book he could get his hands on so far. When that hadn’t worked, he’d swallowed his pride and emailed some of the scientists that had tried to get him out of New Winslow previously. Yeah, things had gone terribly with some of them, but others had left on decent terms with Roman. He’d heard from one so far and now he was just waiting to hear back from any of the others.
He knew he was burning out. Between working his usual amount at the shop, meeting with the others to discuss breaking the curse, doing his own outside research, and helping care for Minnie, Roman was spreading himself too thin. But none of it was more important than breaking the curse. If the curse was broken, he could get Minnie out of New Winslow one last time. She could see the ocean, smell the salt air.
And if she could do that, then maybe he’d be able to leave too. And he could stay in his children’s lives as they got older and inevitably left. That was worth a few sleepless nights, right?
He hadn’t mentioned anything about Minnie to the others on their little research team. Obviously Dr. Degas knew her situation, but he wasn’t about to try and discuss Minnie’s medical information with her. So instead he’d kept his after hours activities to himself, brushing off any questions about how he’d gotten the information he arrived with when they met up.
Roman yawned, covering his mouth with a polite hand. A woman a little older than him with stringy gray hair and a lined face sat down in the seat beside him in the circle. He nodded to her and she nodded back. He’d seen her here a few times, but was pretty sure she didn’t live in town.
If she didn’t live in town, he had no clue why she’d risk coming to meetings in New Winslow. But that wasn’t his business. She clearly knew what was going on and had decided the privacy was worth the risk.
His mind flashed to Minnie. He’d been at her house before this, sitting quietly in the living room watching the news on her tiny television. He’d tried to keep it light, commenting on the local interest stories they were playing while she dozed and occasionally chuckled at his commentary.
Tonight after the meeting he planned to read through the responses he’d gotten from the UMass professor who had tried to get him out of New Winslow eight years ago. His approach hadn’t been anything particularly useful back then. In fact, it seemed to be pretty steeped in folklore without any actual investigation behind it. But following up couldn’t hurt. Once the kids were in bed and Celine was out for the night, he’d have plenty of time. He just needed to use that time and actually…
“Welcome, everybody.”
Roman’s head shot up with a sharp breath. Had he seriously just dozed off at the beginning of an AA meeting?
Nobody seemed to have noticed as Gene Rodowicz, the group leader, started talking. He welcomed the newcomers, offered up the cookies and coffee at the back, and opened the floor to anyone who wanted to speak. Roman listened to the greetings and took a large swig of his coffee. Clearly he needed it.
He didn’t plan on talking tonight. Some nights he felt the need to talk, to air his frustrations and the struggles with sobriety that he kept even from Celine. But other nights he just wanted to sit and let everybody else’s words wash over him. It helped to know that, even though he stood out from everybody here as the town cautionary tale, he could have at least some companionship in this part of his life.
———————————————————
“Here, take this.”
Iris handed Andrew a rock the size of his fist. It was beautiful, a glossy black with hints of pinks and greens reflecting in the lamplight.
“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up to inspect.
“Tourmaline,” Iris said.
He vaguely remembered the term from a conversation months earlier. Something about it being good for protection.
“Is it a curse-breaker?” he asked, moving the stone slightly to catch the light.
“It repels negative energy,” Iris said. “And attracts good energy. So in a sense, yes? I don’t think it’ll directly break the curse, but it might strengthen the effects of the other spells we’ve been trying. I think part of what we need is a little more support around the actual attempts, if that makes sense.”
He nodded, still inspecting the stone. It was gorgeous.
“Take it home tonight and charge it,” Iris said. “I’ve used it for protection before, but you’re going to want to charge it yourself.”
“And how should I do that?” he asked.
“Cleanse it first,” she said. “Not that I’ve done anything too wild with it, but you don’t want my energy interfering with yours. Running water works well. You can also use brown rice if you’ve got some.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re out, but I can take a look in the cupboard,” Andrew said.
“If you want to charge it, there’s a few different ways,” Iris continued. “Leave it in the moonlight or direct your own energy into it.”
The larger part of Andrew’s mind that screamed that this was all bullshit was trying desperately to get to the forefront right now. He looked at the stone in his hand. It was a rock.
But then, so was that crystal keeping Roland out of the shop. And then there were the wards that were charged with Iris’s own energy.
“What kind of energy?” he asked.
“Um, you could meditate with it,” Iris said. “Or sing? Or…”
Now there was a slight blush tinging her face. “Um, sexual energy is also particularly potent. You can…”
She faltered. He kept his gaze on the stone, trying to keep his face neutral.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I won’t be doing that.”
Iris looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. Andrew spun the tourmaline around a little, admiring the rainbow of colors flashing across it.
“Well,” he said finally. “I suppose I should go pick up some brown rice before the general store closes, yeah?”
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(Show Notes
Content Warning for mind control, demonic activity
Image Credits
Photo by David CainonUnsplash
Photo by Andrew NeelonUnsplash
Photo by Amber KipponUnsplash)
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There was something in the shop this time. Celine could feel it the second she stepped through the door, a sharp, piercing feeling in the air. The work area was still overheated from the oven, but there was a chill in the room that seemed to cut into her soul.
This wasn’t Roman copping an attitude or a passing specter on the wind. This was something very real and potentially dangerous.
“Charlie, hurry up, this order’s been waiting.”
Roman’s voice was frayed and angry, not that that was anything she wasn’t used to.
“Christ, give me a minute. I’ve got two others over here.”
Charlie’s retort, however, was very startling. Even at his most sleep-deprived new father state, he had never been anything but cheerful.
She rounded the corner in time to see Roman spin around and glare at Charlie. “Excuse me?” he snapped.
“I said let me finish this without you fucking hounding me.”
Roman’s eyes flashed and Celine could see where this was going. “Hey,” she said firmly, stepping in between the two men. “Stop it, both of you.”
“Celine, it’s fine,” Roman snapped, trying to step around her. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Oh, will you?” Charlie asked, standing up to his full height.
“Both of you,” Celine demanded, trying to keep her voice calm while also building up her own mental blocks. “Stop. Charlie, go sit in the dining room for a moment. Sit in a booth and count to a hundred.”
They both started talking at the same time.
“He’s got orders to-”
“Why do you want-”
She held up a hand and they both went silent. She turned to Charlie. “Just do it,” she said, looking him directly in the eye. “And while you’re doing it, close your eyes and visualize a wall blocking out outside influences. Picture it as clearly as you can. Focus on your breathing and with each breath, add another brick to the wall.”
Charlie looked lost for a second, but then understanding dawned in his eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“It’s okay,” Celine said softly. “I noticed as soon as I came in. Visualizing exercises will be fine for now, but maybe ask your grandmother if she has anything you can keep in your car for the future.”
Charlie’s shoulders fell and he nodded. Then, with one last glare at Roman, he walked away.
“Celine, it’s the middle of the day!” Roman argued. “We can’t just have our only delivery driver go take his ten while there’s orders sitting here.”
“Yes we can,” Celine said, keeping her voice firm but calm. “And you and I are going out back for a moment.”
Before he could protest any further, she put out the bell and a small sign reading Ring for Service. Then she steered Roman out back, ignoring his protests as she kept a constant eye out for any other signs of the presence.
“Where the fuck is Charlie?” Roman demanded as she steered him into the office chair. “I’m going to fucking kill him, I swear to G-”
“Roman,” Celine said, gripping his hands and looking directly into his eyes. “This isn’t you. Or at least it isn’t all you. There’s something in the building and it’s influencing your emotions.”
“That’s ridiculous, we’ve never had problems like that in here. Did you finally lose your goddamn mind? Sometimes I think-”
“Would you ever normally talk to me like that?”
Roman stopped short as the color drained from his face. “Celine, I’m so sorry.”
She squeezed his hands. “It’s okay, I swear. But you need to get a grip on yourself so you can get it off you.”
He nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Close your eyes. Take a deep breath and then let it out.”
He followed her instructions, his body relaxing just a little as he did so. “You have to get some barriers up, Rome. I need you to visualize a wall. Something solid, something that can protect you.”
He nodded a little frantically, eyes still closed. “Relax,” she said, trying to keep her own voice calm. “It’s okay. You aren’t possessed, just a little…influenced. Charlie too. Keep breathing and keep picturing that wall, alright? Picture as many little details as you can.”
He kept taking deep breaths, letting them out in shaky exhales. “Okay, once you have it, imagine adding to it. Is it brick?”
“Yeah.”
“Perfect. Add bricks to the wall. See it getting stronger. Know that it’ll keep out spirits and other forces.”
There was a ring from the bell. Roman opened his eyes. “Keep them closed,” she said, standing up. “I’ll go take care of it and check in on Charlie. You stay there. Keep building that wall. The realer it is to you the realer it’ll be to anything trying to get in.”
He nodded and she walked up front, where a woman was waiting to pick up her lunch salad. This transaction was done in all of thirty seconds, then she went out to the dining room where Charlie was sitting in the first booth. His eyes were closed and his expression focused.
“How are you doing, Charlie?”
He opened his eyes. “Good,” he said. “Good. It feels like something….loosened up if that makes sense.”
“It does.”
He laughed a little bitterly. “My Nene is going to kill me when she finds out. If she doesn’t know already.”
“We’ve been lucky here so far,” Celine said. “I’ve kept up kind of basic wards and charms. But something’s getting in, so we’ll need to be more careful. Are you feeling okay?”
He nodded. “I am,” he said. “I haven’t done those kinds of exercises since I was a kid, but I think it worked.”
“Good. You want to get back to work? Or do you need a little more time?”
“I’ll go,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to take all three of those deliveries if you’re good here.”
“We’re fine,” Celine said. “Roman’s doing the same thing you were doing, you two can kiss and make up when you get back.”
He laughed as he followed her back behind the counter. “And we’ll figure out some kind of protection for your car as well.”
“And my house,” Charlie said, grimacing. “God, that could have followed me home…”
She turned and took his hand. “Don’t dwell,” she said. “Just keep your wall up, try and stay calm, and we’ll get it sorted out.”
“Do you know what it was?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I just walked in when I saw you and Roman about to come to blows.”
Charlie let go of her hand and turned toward the delivery shelves. “Thanks for stepping in, boss,” he said, pulling the heating bags off the shelf. “I’d hate to have killed your husband.”
For a second, Celine felt like she should defend Roman. But there was no question Charlie could have annihilated him so instead she kept her mouth shut.
As Charlie was walking out, she returned to the back room. Roman was right where she’d left him.
“How are you?” Celine asked.
“Um, good. Calmer.”
He opened his eyes. “Celine, I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. “There’s something going on.”
Roman shook his head and let out a long breath. “What happened?” he asked.
“Something’s in the building,” she replied. “Or at least it was. I could feel it when I walked in, some kind of new presence that was angry. Like it was made entirely of anger.”
“That makes sense,” he said. “I was angry. Even more than usual. Like, I’m tired and annoyed. But I was so mad at Charlie and the more I realized it, the madder I got. Like it was just feeding off my anger.”
Celine grimaced. “Yeah, that’s my thought too.”
Roman opened his mouth to say something, then stopped.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t want to make accusations,” he said slowly. “Especially in something like this where I will willingly admit I know nothing. But Iris has been having issues with an angry spirit that’s trying to get back in her shop. Do you think maybe…”
“Maybe it decided to make a pit stop here?” Celine finished.
He nodded. “Maybe,” she said. “We’re close by, it could have needed an energy source. Or maybe it’s just lashing out. Either way, that does make sense.”
Her mind had been filled with tasks for the day when she walked in, mundane business tasks like ordering more inventory or phone calls with potential vendors. Now these chores were joined by binding rituals, psychic attacks, and how to handle it while still running a business.
And yet, that still felt normal to her. She’d lived in New Winslow for too long.
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(Show Note
Content warning for dementia/memory issues
Image Credits:
Photo by Gaetano CessationUnsplash
Photo by Jason LeungonUnsplash
Photo by Aaron BurdenonUnsplash)
——————————-
Cleo knocked on her mother’s door, two short, efficient raps. Then, without waiting for a response, she turned the knob and stepped inside.
“Hi Mom!” she called as she stepped into the tiny mobile home.
“Who’s there?” her mother called from the living room.
Cleo stopped with one shoe half-off, her moderately good mood already evaporating. “It’s Cleo,” she said. “Remember? We’re having lunch this afternoon?”
There was the sound of someone standing up, then her mother strode out of the living room. “Oh, right,” she said, hurriedly smoothing down her hair as she walked toward Cleo. “Of course I remembered, I just lost track of time.”
Cleo tried not to let her skepticism show on her face, but it was hard. Especially as she looked down at her mom’s face and noticed the lines and dark circles that hadn’t been there even a month ago.
“Well, I brought sandwiches!” she said, forcing cheer into her voice as she held up the bag. “Stopped at the general store on my way here. Sandwiches, chips, and seltzers. And a couple pieces of cake. Oh, and Mrs. Stevenson says hi.”
She kissed her mother on the cheek and moved past her in the narrow space that opened up into the kitchen. The apartment was messy, but not enough to be concerning. Just enough to be out of character for her mother.
“I owe her a phone call,” her mother said suddenly. “I said I’d call her…last Friday. Oh no.”
“She didn’t seem bothered,” Cleo said, pulling down plates from the cabinet. “She just said to say hi and send her love.”
Her mom smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. Cleo was tempted to continue her reassurances, but that was always a very careful line that could easily end with her mother begging off lunch and rushing Cleo out the door.
“So, how are you doing?” Cleo asked as they sat down at the tiny kitchen table.
“I’m fine,” her mom said.
Cleo waited for her to elaborate, but she just started eating her sandwich. “Have you taken any walks around the mobile park?” Cleo asked.
No answer. “I’ve walked around a little,” Cleo continued, her own appetite fading as she watched her mother take tiny bites of her food. “It’s nice. Lots of flowers out. Your neighbor’s got some beautiful ones in the whiskey barrel outside.”
“Mrs. Jensen,” her mother said. “They’re fake. She’s dying of cancer.”
Cleo thought back to when she’d run into Roman leaving Mrs. Jensen’s house on Christmas Day. “Oh,” she managed to get out.
“Why are you here?”
Yeah, if she ate anything more she was just going to vomit it back up. “Because we agreed to have lunch today.”
“Why did we do that?” her mom asked. “That doesn’t sound like us.”
She had a point. Before she’d come back to help her mom move and promptly gotten Andrew trapped in New Winslow, Cleo hadn’t been back in town for almost seven years. But that had always been a mutual decision. If anything, her mother seemed to enjoy keeping their contact to the phone and occasional lunches halfway between their homes more than she did.
“I guess we just did?” Cleo said sheepishly. “I mean, I told you I was going to be in Fitchburg with Edie, so I’d be nearby.”
“Who’s Edie? What happened to Jenna?”
“Edie’s my partner, Mom,” Cleo said slowly. “Jenna and I broke up months ago.”
“I liked Jenna.”
Cleo recognized the signs of an upcoming anxiety attack in her mother’s petulant tone. “Well, it didn’t work out,” she said, trying to stay patient. “But you’ll like Edie.”
Her mother didn’t answer. Cleo picked up a chip and ate it slowly.
“I think I’d like to be alone.”
There it was. Cleo was only surprised that the dismissal hadn’t happened earlier.
“Are you sure?” Cleo asked. “I just got here and I’ve got some chocolate cake in the bag.”
“I don’t like chocolate.”
That was decidedly untrue, but she was going to pick her battles. And since her mother was already mad, she might as well pick one of those battles now.
“Mom, have you made an appointment with Dr. Degas yet?”
“About what?” her mother snapped.
“It just seems like you’re still having some memory issues.”
And they were getting a whole lot worse, from what Cleo could see.
“It’s fine,” her mom said, tears now in her eyes. “I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.”
There wasn’t a chance that was true, but Cleo would take it for now. “Thank you.”
“I mean it though,” her mother said. “Thank you for coming, but I’d like some time by myself.”
Cleo nodded and tried not to let her mother see how much the dismissal hurt.
“You take the cake. You and Jenna can have it later.”
The house suddenly had no air. So Cleo tossed her sandwich back in the bag, kissed her mother on the cheek, and bolted without another word.
——————————————————
Olivia opened the front door and Cleo smiled a wide, fake smile. “I brought cake,” she said, holding up the box.
Olivia’s eyes narrowed, but she stepped aside to let Cleo in. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Cleo opened her mouth to deny it, but Olivia shook her head. “You just showed up on my doorstep with two slices of cake. Don’t get me wrong, I’m always happy to see you. But I distinctly remember you telling me you were picking up cake to bring to your mom’s today.”
Cleo sighed as she followed Olivia into her apartment. “Just a rough afternoon,” she admitted. “Her mind was all over the place. First she forgot we were meeting and then it was only downhill from there. She was pissed and taking it out on me.”
Olivia winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
They went into the kitchen, where Olivia went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of iced tea. “Drink?” she asked.
“Please.”
Olivia set down the bottle, then reached up into the cabinet and pulled down three glasses. “Andrew’s in the shower,” she said. “He’ll be out in a sec.”
“I’ll save him some cake.”
As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Andrew walked out in his bathrobe, a towel draped over his shoulder. “Oh, hi, Cleo,” he said.
“Hi.”
He walked over and gave Cleo a one-armed hug. “What brings you by?”
If she couldn’t hide it from Olivia, she wasn’t going to hide it from Andrew either. “Rough day at my mom’s.”
He gave her an extra squeeze, then let go. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Give me a minute to change and I’ll be right back.”
“Mia’s in her room, so feel free to use mine,” Olivia said.
“Cheers,” Andrew called as he left the room.
Cleo felt an unexpected wave of jealousy wash over her at the sight of their casual domesticity. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want New Winslow. And she certainly didn’t envy Andrew’s situation. But the ease and comfort with which they moved around each other felt so much warmer than the apartment she loved, but was destroying herself to keep.
Olivia handed her a glass of iced tea. “Let’s sit down and eat that cake before Andrew notices.”
“I heard that!” Andrew called in from the living room.
Cleo laughed, feeling the weight of the afternoon lifting just a little as she sat down.
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(Show Notes:
Image Credits
Photo by Lucas AllmannfromPexels
Photo by Debby HudsononUnsplash
Photo by Wesley TingeyonUnsplash)
———————–
Olivia had always found it funny to set the same cheesy nineties country song on the jukebox every Friday night. She’d done it for years and despite the confused and irritated looks she’d see across Noah’s face when the first chords started, she had never told him it was her. And he’d never figured it out.
She hadn’t played that song in months, not since January at least. At first it had just been because of his standoffish behavior, but eventually it became too painful to even try to have any kind of fun with him at work. And when he’d quit and apparently tanked their friendship, she couldn’t even listen to the song without wanting to throw up.
Hugh had his back to her as she walked up from the basement, carefully balancing three small boxes in her arms. For a split second, she thought he was Noah. There was no reason to do so. Hugh and Noah looked nothing alike. But out of some cruel force of habit, her brain had inserted Noah into her vision just long enough to make it hurt. Then she saw Hugh’s brawny shoulders and light brown hair.
Shaking her head, Olivia dropped the boxes of silverware on the high top table and sat down. For the next couple hours it would be fairly quiet here. So now was the perfect time to at least attempt to get ahead of tonight’s madness.
Charlie wouldn’t be on until six so it was just Olivia and Hugh through the beginning of dinner service. Thankfully Hugh had already proven himself to be perfectly capable of dealing with the bar, so that left her with the kitchen and serving meals to anyone outside the bar. If she could just get enough prep work done, she could probably do fine tonight without worrying about falling behind.
Sure, there’d be complaints about slow or brusque service when she had to run back out for the check. But Bret was going to have to deal with that if he wasn’t going to let her schedule anybody else until after dinner began.
Olivia pulled out a fork and knife and rolled them into a paper napkin. Repetitive work like this was the closest she got to a lunch break some days. And she was almost okay with it. It was easy enough to let her mind wander as her hands worked automatically.
Mia was with her mother again while Andrew was at Iris’s. She wasn’t sure if he was officially working a shift or at a research meeting. Or maybe there wasn’t really any difference between the two. Either way he’d probably beat her home. She’d get home to him sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, maybe a notebook beside him. He’d either be jotting scenes for the novel he still maintained he wanted to write or else reading over some of the oddest notes about herbs and the moon, notes that made perfect sense to him and nobody else.
“Want some help?”
Hugh’s easy voice broke through her thoughts. He was standing beside the jukebox, just a few feet away. “I finished up my work,” he said. “Thought maybe I could help with yours.”
“Um, sure,” Olivia said. “Yeah, thanks. If you don’t mind? Did you take your lunch break yet?”
“I just got here an hour ago,” Hugh said with a patient smile.
Olivia felt her face get hot. “Right,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m a little out of it.”
“No problem,” Hugh said, pulling out the chair opposite her.
He took a napkin, fork, and knife out of the boxes and effortlessly rolled them together. “So no one else until six, huh?” he asked as he set the napkin roll aside and took out more parts.
“Nope,” Olivia said, folding her own napkin roll and setting it into the pile. “And Charlie’s going to do what he can, but he’s got his own work cut out for him. Even on a Wednesday.”
“I wouldn’t mess with that kid,” Hugh said with a laugh. “That’s crap though. Any special reason why hours are cut so hard?”
Olivia glanced at the door as though Bret would deign to walk in at any moment. “Honestly?” she said, her voice lowering automatically. “Bret’s company is trying to squeeze every dime out of these bars that they can. Keegan’s, Devonshire over in Barre, and I guess he’s putting in an offer for some place in Turner’s Falls. But our profit margins aren’t up for the empire he’s trying to create, so he’s making cuts everywhere he can. Cheaper food, cheaper liquor, fewer hours. We used to have a decent-sized staff. Even last year we had a couple part time waiters on, plus a part-time bartender that would work alongside our full-time guy. All of them are gone and you’re the only person Bret’s brought on as an actual replacement.”
“I’m no businessman,” Hugh began, rolling his fourth or fifth napkin roll. “But that doesn’t seem like a very good way to run your company.”
“If you can even call it that,” Olivia said bitterly.
She knew that she was crossing a line of professionalism here, but she didn’t care. It felt good to sit here and talk to Hugh like a couple of adults.
“So what makes you stick around?” Hugh asked.
He stopped and winced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was extremely rude of me. And absolutely none of my business.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I ask myself that every day.”
Olivia paused in her silverware rolling and looked toward the empty bar. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been looking, but there’s nothing in town that would pay enough. And I don’t want to look too far away when my mom and my roommate are giving me free babysitting, you know?”
Hugh nodded. “I get it,” he said. “Not that I don’t wake up every morning excited to go to work, but the fact that it’s near my parents is what really appealed to me when I applied.”
“How are you liking it?” she asked, trying to get herself back into manager mode. “Is it at least bearable?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Some parts are better than others.”
He smiled and she hated herself for blushing.
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(Episode Notes: Content Warning for financial anxiety and sexual situations
Image Credits:
Photo by Engin AkyurtfromPexels
Photo by Riki RisnandarfromPexels)
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“So what time should I expect you tonight?”
Edie sounded happy and rested in stark contrast to the tension headache and borderline panic currently coursing through Cleo. Cleo shifted her phone to the other ear as she picked up her delivery bag and set it in her car’s passenger seat.
“I’m not sure I can come over,” she said.
Edie was silent for a second. “Is everything alright?” they asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Cleo replied, well aware of how not-fine her voice sounded as she said it.
“Then why not?” Edie asked, their voice just on the edge of irritated. “I’ve got dinner going already. And that bath bomb you were jealous of? I’ve got three more.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
Cleo climbed into the driver’s side and slammed the door shut. “Deliveries were slow today on both apps and I’m still short for rent,” she explained. “I need to pay it tomorrow so I’m going to stay out tonight until I get enough.”
“Do you know how long that will be?”
“No.”
Guilt squirmed in her stomach. It had been almost two weeks since she’d seen Edie and that was when Edie had come to her house and rode along for a full shift just to spend time with her. Cleo had promised to come over tonight. And she’d intended too, really. It wasn’t until a couple hours ago that the nagging sensation settled in her gut and she’d realized it wasn’t going to happen. Edie had the right to be upset at the short notice cancellation.
But if Cleo didn’t stay out and finish this, either her rent would be returned or her bank account would overdraft. Both of which would leave her screwed when her utility bill went through next week.
“How much is it?” Edie asked.
“Edie, no-”
“How much more do you need?”
Cleo knew that tone. “Seventy dollars,” she said.
“I’ll give you the money.”
“Edie, I’m not going to ask you to pay my bills for me.”
“I know that,” Edie said. “But how many hours have you worked today?”
“Only nine. It’s not that bad.”
“And how many have you worked this week?”
Cleo tried to do the mental math but the numbers kept sliding away. After a moment’s silence, Edie sighed. “That’s what I thought.”
“Look, it’s just until I can find something permanent,” Cleo said. “And it’s my rent. I need to get it in tomorrow.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. “Edie?”
Her phone buzzed against her ear with an incoming notification. Cleo pulled it down and glanced at it. It was a Venmo alert notifying her she’d received seventy dollars from Edie.
“Edie, I mean it.”
“So do I,” Edie snapped. “Come on, Cleo, you’ve been working too hard. Let me help you this one time. Consider it me paying you back for dinner a couple weeks ago.”
Cleo was about to counter this argument with the fact that Edie had bought dinner the time before that, but her throat was suddenly too tight to get the words out. So instead, she nodded even though Edie couldn’t see her. “Thank you,” she finally choked out. “Alright, fine. Let me finish this delivery and then I’ll head over.”
“I’ll have dinner and a bath waiting.”
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Edie lived on the second floor of an old house that had been converted into a duplex. It was a beautiful apartment, clearly cared for and loved by both the owner and Edie. As Cleo walked up the steps to Edie’s unit, she saw the landlord shuffling around on the side porch. He spotted her through the window and raised a withered hand in greeting. She waved back, then made her way up to Edie’s front door.
Edie opened the door seconds after Cleo knocked. They wore black lounge pants and a Fitchburg State College tee shirt, yet somehow still looked glamorous. “Hey beautiful,” Edie said, pulling Cleo in for a kiss.
They tasted like mangoes as they smiled against Cleo’s lips. Despite her draining exhaustion, Cleo’s mood lifted just a little. She ran a hand through Edie’s soft hair. They’d cut it recently, the bob now short and choppy just below their ears.
“I like this,” Cleo said.
Edie smiled. “Just cut it for the summer.”
Cleo kissed them again. “It’s a good look.”
“I’m glad you came,” Edie said.
“I am too,” Cleo said, realizing she meant it.
Edie pulled her inside and closed the door. “You know what’s the best part of this apartment?” they asked, steering Cleo through the living room.
“Lots of parking?”
Edie rolled their eyes, but still smiled with a blend of affection and mischief. “That’s pretty great,” they admitted, hand still in Cleo’s and heading toward the bathroom. “But I think my favorite part is the big, claw footed tub. Have I showed you that yet?”
Cleo smiled at them. “I think I might have seen it once or twice,” she said with a laugh.
“Hmmm…”
Edie opened the bathroom door to reveal the dimly lit bathroom. Three candles were lit on the counter top and the scent of jasmine drifted up from the foamy surface of the filled tub. Cleo turned to Edie, who was grinning at her.
“I thought you said you had no plans?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
Edie shrugged. “I didn’t. But now I do.”
They wrapped their arms around Cleo, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Cleo let them slip it off, then kicked off her shorts and slid into the tub. Edie took a moment to undress, then got in on the other side.
“Mangos?” they offered, holding out a small plate of mango slices.
“I’d say you thought of everything, but I know this is a normal evening for you,” Cleo said with a laugh, taking a slice.
Edie laughed too as they set the plate aside. “Fair. But I’d much rather have the company.”
Cleo leaned back against the cool tile wall and closed her eyes as she took a bite of mango. “Agreed.”
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081320 thinking isn’t going to get us anywhere
071620 Mohin Revna and Faelynn at their highest and lowest moments
070320 concept art
