Save Me (The Me Novellas) (5 page)

“
Dani? I need to use the bathroom.”

I sighed. The one bathroom was clearly going to be an issue.

I spent the rest of the day lounging in my room, reading and working on a paper for my Hemingway class. Writing a ten-page essay in which I did not refer to the author as a narcissistic asshole took a fair amount of effort, as did refraining from pointing out the similarities in my ex-boyfriend.

Dani got home right after six. She rapped on my door before opening it. “You hungry?”

She had a massive pizza box in one hand, a six-pack of diet Pepsi in the other. My mouth watered. I hadn’t eaten all day. I’d been too busy. Too worried. Too everything.

“
Yes.” I slammed my laptop shut and scooted off the bed.

I followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the little formica table. It was like something out of The Brady Bunch with its speckled top and orange vinyl-cushioned chairs. I sat down gingerly in one of them. The vinyl was cracked, yellowed-styrofoam stuffing peeking out through the seams.

“
Are you all settled?” Dani asked. She grabbed paper plates from a large bag on the counter top.

I opened the pizza box and inhaled the smell of pepperoni. “Think so.”

“
What did you do today?” She grabbed a slice and transferred it to her plate.

I bit into a slice. “Unpacked. Worked on a paper.”

She nodded. “Cool. And Ron didn’t come by at all?”

“
I don’t think so.” I popped open a can of soda. “Does he usually?”

“
Sometimes,” she said. “The shop is just up the block. He comes home for lunch. And, sometimes, bathroom breaks.”

I bit my lip, smothering my snarky remark. “Oh. Gotcha.”

“
Anyway, we’re going out tonight,” Dani said, wiping her greasy fingers on a napkin. “It’s our anniversary.”

“
It is?”

“
Yeah. We always go out on the 4
th
. To celebrate our first date.”

How did I not know this? I wondered if she’d told me before and I’d just forgotten. Or never listened. Oh my God, I was as bad as Ben.

“
That’s awesome.” I polished off the first slice of pizza and grabbed another. And then stopped. “Why are you eating? If you guys are going out?”

Dani wrinkled her nose. “Because I don’t want to starve. We go for sushi.”

“
So?”

“
I hate sushi.”

“
Then why do you go?” And why don’t you tell your boyfriend of three years that you want to do something else for your monthly anniversary date? But I didn’t say this.

“
Because it’s what we’ve always done,” she explained. “We went out for sushi on our first date. Tiger Sushi, down at the mall.”

I was not the world’s biggest fan of sushi. But mall sushi? No wonder Ron had bathroom issues.

“
Maybe you guys could try something new?” I suggested. “You know, see if Ron would be willing to try something else? Like maybe a hamburger?”

“
Oh, he doesn’t like sushi, either.” She grinned. “All he orders is California rolls.”

“
Oh my God. Then why do you go?”

She shrugged and grabbed another slice. There was a smear of pepperoni grease on her cheek. “Because we always have. It’s tradition.”

I took a bite of pizza to keep my mouth busy and I thought as I chewed. It sounded ridiculous, going out to dinner to a place they both hated. But they did it. Together. Month after month. It was something Ben would have never entertained. If he didn’t like it, he didn’t do it. So even though Ron was greasy and weird and had health issues that would probably drive me insane, the fact that he would take my best friend out, month after month without fail, to maintain tradition made him alright in my book.

For now.

Dani finished her pizza and stood. “I need to change,” she said. She motioned to her black slacks and modest pink blouse. “Not date attire.”

I cleaned up dinner. We’d only eaten half the pizza and I rummaged in the kitchen, finally locating a roll of aluminum foil shoved behind boxes of opened cereal in one of the lower cabinets. I wrapped the slices and opened the fridge and quickly shut the door before anything fell out. It was crammed full of leftovers, half-full cartons of milk and orange juice and liquid eggs. The smell of rotting food wafted out and I instantly reverted to breathing through my mouth.

“
I need to clean that,” Dani called from her bedroom. “It’s on my agenda for the weekend.”

I guess the smell had traveled all the way down the hallway. I left the diet Pepsi cans on the table. I couldn’t face another assault on my nose.

I retreated back to my room and pulled out my books again. There was one good thing about moving out and breaking up with Ben. I was going to have an awful lot of time to study.

At some point, Ron came home and they both called a goodbye to me as they left for their sushi date. I finished an outline for my paper on Thoreau and American transcendentalism and suffered through more Hemingway short stories. But my day had started out early and my brain was fried and it was impossible to keep my eyes open.

A tickle of fur on my bare feet woke me up. I shifted on the bed and the Hemingway book fell off my stomach. The fur moved and I wiggled my toes. Jemima was reclaiming her territory.

Except the fur squeaked. And, even though I’d never owned a cat in my entire life, I was pretty sure of one thing. Cats did not squeak.

I opened my eyes and stared down at my feet.

And screamed.

The largest rat I’d ever seen was staring back at me.

SIX

I catapulted off the bed and the rat scurried away, whiskers twitching.

I grabbed my phone from my purse and locked myself in the bathroom and called Dani.

“
There’s a rat in my bedroom!” But I was hyperventilating and she didn’t understand me.

“
A cat? I told you, Jemima–”

“
No,” I shouted. “A rat! Like, with a tail and whiskers.”

Which was pretty much what a cat had.

“
A rodent,” I clarified.

“
Oh my God.” Dani didn’t sound horrified or worried or scared. She sounded glad. Thrilled. Over the moon. “You found Hamilton!”

“
What?” I asked, trying to steady my breathing. I was pretty sure I was going into cardiac arrest.

“
Ron,” Dani was speaking but not to me. “Honey, she found Hamilton!”

I leaned against the bathroom door, light-headed. “Who is Hamilton?”

“
Ron’s pet rat,” she explained. “He’s been missing for over a week. We were pretty sure Jemima ate him.”

“
Oh my God.” I sank to the floor, cradling the phone in my hands. “You have a pet rat?”

“
Yes. He’s the sweetest thing. We were so worried about him. Between Jemima and Jerome, he’s probably not the best pet to have. Especially when he gets loose. Which happens a lot. We probably should have named him Houdini.”

“
Wait.” I closed my eyes. “Who is Jerome?”

“
The snake. A ball python. He sometimes escapes, too–”

“
What
?”

“
Don’t worry,” Dani said. “He’s never bitten anyone. Well, not since we’ve had him
…
”

I could feel my heart start to jackhammer. If my life had been a reality TV show, it appeared I’d just stepped into episodes of both Hoarders and The Crocodile Hunter.

“
OK,” I said weakly, not feeling OK at all. I hung up and dropped the phone. And noticed the mold growing between the grout on the tile floor.

I leaped to my feet. There was no place safe, nowhere for me to go. If I stayed in the bathroom, noxious mold would suffocate me. If I ventured out into the apartment, I had a roving rat and escape-artist snake to deal with. I shivered. I had to get out of that apartment. Not just for the night. For good.

I took a deep breath. I could run back into my room. Grab my purse and leave.

But where would I go? I couldn’t call Ben. No way. As desperate as I was, it wasn’t enough to go crawling back to him.

But I didn’t have a house here anymore. My parents were still driving to Florida. My mom had texted me earlier in the evening, gleefully trying out her new cell phone. She must have brushed up on some text abbreviations because her message was full of them.

In GA. 2 hours 2 go. Call u b4 we get settled. TTYL. <3

For one panicked moment, I thought about joining them. Tossing in the towel and walking away from my degree and just leaving. I could do it. Get settled in Florida, apply at Florida State or something, finish my degree there.

But I was done with school. I was ready to move on to the next big thing in my life. Only problem was, I wasn’t sure what it was going to be. Because, at that moment, I didn’t have anything in my life.

Except rats and snakes and a disgusting apartment.

First things first. I needed to get out of the animal and mold-infested apartment.

You can do this
, I told myself. Baby steps.

I took another deep breath, exhaling slowly through my nose. I should have taken yoga with my mother. I had no relaxation skills to speak of. I breathed in and out again, trying to focus on the air leaving my lungs. It worked. Sort of.

Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the door handle and sprinted from the bathroom and back into my bedroom. I stopped at the entrance and surveyed the room. No rat anywhere. Quickly, I tiptoed in, grabbed my purse and keys and then, as an afterthought, picked up my computer from the bed, wrenching the cord from the outlet as gently as possible. Without a backward glance, I ran out of Dani’s apartment.

I drove to the only place I could think to go on a Thursday night at ten o’clock. A 24-hour coffee shop.

I ordered a coffee and a slice of chocolate cake and tried not to cry. I couldn’t remember another time in my life that I had felt so completely alone. It was suffocating.

It took every ounce of strength I had to not call Ben. Or my parents. I sipped my coffee and twirled my fork and played with the container of jams and jellies and avoided the one device in my purse that would allow me to make the connection I wanted.

“
Get you more coffee?” My waitress reappeared, carafe in hand. Crows feet tickled the corners of her tired eyes and her lips stretched into a thin smile.

I nodded and pushed my mug toward her. She topped it off.

“
You here for the long haul?” she asked.

I raised my eyebrows.

She motioned to the laptop sitting next to me. “Figured you’re a student. Classes. Studying.”

“
Oh. Yes.” I picked up the computer and set it on the table.

She nodded. “It’s hard to study this time of year. Roommates bugging you?”

I thought of the rogue rat and the snake and the mold. She had no idea.

“
Something like that,” I murmured. I flipped open the computer and it whirred as it booted up.

“
I’ll leave you alone,” she said. “Just give a holler if you need something. I’m here ’til five.”

She left.

I pulled open the paper I was working on and read my way through it. But I couldn’t concentrate. The only thing on my mind was my current living arrangements. I had to find a new place to stay. Immediately.

My options were limited. Nonexistent, really. I went through my mental catalogue of friends and acquaintances. There weren’t many. A couple of girls from classes at the U. We’d gotten together a few times and studied. Jenny from Once Upon A Time. Our shifts sometimes overlapped. But she was eighteen and lived at home, too.

And then inspiration struck. Or rather, desperation. I closed the document file and opened my web browser. And went to Craig’s List.

There were over a hundred ads in the last twenty-four hours from people looking for roommates. I read through each of them until one caught my eye.

Room available immediately for female student/professional. Great 4 BR split-level home. Two M and one F. Guys upstairs, girls downstairs. Lots of common space. HD TV, washer and dryer, large driveway for parking. Respectful, fun, hard-working people. $100 deposit, month-to-month agreement. $250/month, utilities included. Sorry, no pets.

There were four pictures attached. An exterior shot of the house, complete with green manicured lawn and flower pots brimming with pink petunias. An interior of the living area—massive butter-colored leather sofas and a huge flat screen TV in the living room, a farm-style kitchen tucked off in the informal dining space. A photo of a bedroom—empty, but with clean walls and floors and a large closet. And no rats. And the fourth was of two of the occupants—a woman not much older than me, red-haired and freckled and slightly elfish, and a guy sporting a Gophers cap and a dark goatee. They were grinning at the camera, their arms over each other’s shoulders in a friendly, we-really-like-our-roommate sort of way.