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13
Malaysia
Ethan and I drank several glasses of champagne while mingling with various guests throughout the night. I brushed a loose strand of hair into place with the stroke of my finger. I pondered on our earlier actions.
I pulled my hair together the best I could after Ethan and I made love. He didn’t want to talk about us having unprotected sex. He knew I wasn’t on the pill. What was he trying to prove?
Later that night we made love again without protection on the floor next to the monstrous Christmas tree. This was his way of trying to keep me in his life.
I stared at the ceiling, stroking Ethan’s hair. The scent of vanilla candles and fresh pine dangled under my nose. Ethan laid on his bare stomach. His head rested on the plush pillow to my right in the direction of the window. His arm was draped across my naked body as he slept peacefully. I wanted to stay right here with this sexy-ass man. A smile curled my lips before I fell into a deep slumber.
Sitting comfortably in the back seat of the black Cadillac Escalade, my attention was drawn to the snowy dark streets of Boston after leaving the nightclub. Cautiously, the driver drove toward my neighborhood. Ethan suggested I call off work. I was tempted. However, I had financial responsibilities and couldn’t afford to take a night off. It was fun being the great brain surgeon’s girlfriend for a night. I smiled. He couldn’t keep his hands or eyes off me. Ethan made me feel special.
“Ms. Newton, we’ve arrived. What time should I pick you up tomorrow?”
I squinted, staring at the written sign taped to the inside of the barred window in the front door. ‘Water is shut off.’
“Shit!” I yelled, slamming my fists against my thighs.
“What kind of Christmas Holiday is this?”
The driver turned to me. “What’s wrong?”
“The water is shut off. I need to grab several gallons from the store nearby.”
“No problem.”
I awoke Saturday morning rubbing my aching back. My bed was shitty. I’d had the same full-size mattress forever. I couldn’t afford much after graduating from college. Before I’d left L.A., I’d sold all my IKEA furniture. Upon arriving in Boston, I’d bought the essentials from the Goodwill. A couch and a dinette set. Work and sleep were my plan no time for socializing.
Luckily, Ethan never attempted to come into my drab apartment. The cream wall box was just enough for me. One bedroom, one bath, living room, and a tiny kitchen. The kitchen had cheap light oak cabinets from the nineties. There was no smell of pine as you entered. Hell, no sign of Christmas in this place. No gorgeous master bath like Ethan’s. My bathroom didn’t have counter space, only a white porcelain sink held up by four long slender pieces of silver metal. The toilet was so close to the tub, I could turn my body to the side and soak my feet.
I peeled the three blankets back, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. My fluffy blue socks glided across the original wood floors, which of course squeaked as I walked toward the closet. My teeth chattered from the bitter cold. It was so cold, I felt like I was standing on a mountain in Alaska.
All I wanted to do was climb back into bed to keep warm. Quickly, I grabbed my fluffy purple robe off one of the oak dinette chairs resting next to the brown four-drawer chest. Walk-in closet, laughable. Standing at the tiny closet, I yanked a pair of jeans off the plastic hanger then a black sweatshirt. I gawked at the top of the closet stuffed with boxes, tears rolling down my cheeks. I hated living like this.
I was thankful Ethan helped financially. The money he’d given both times went directly toward the repair shop’s mortgage.
I wiped my runny nose with the back of my hand, strolling into the bathroom with clothes in hand. As I turned on the faucet, I was quickly reminded the water was shut off. I clinched my eyes shut, screaming. I stalked into the living room, then mashed the thermostat button until the display read eighty degrees.
Momentarily, I stood waiting for the temperature to rise. But it didn’t. I swiped my keys off the dinette table, fled my apartment, halting down the hall at the super’s door. I pounded my fist on the door. “Mitch, open up!”
Mitch fused in Spanish before the door opened.
“Yeah, what do you want?” He grimaced.
I stood eye level to the balding, tan-skinned man. “When will the water be turned back on?” I huffed.
“Tuesday.”
“Oh, no! It has to be turned on today!”
He leaned in. “Well, little Ms. Priss, it ain’t happening. There are three other buildings in this neighborhood without water.”
“Why is the water shut off anyway?”
“The pipes are frozen. This is Boston. Not L.A. in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Why isn’t the heat working?”
