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This apartment haunts me. The girl who rents it is young, around my daughter’s age, and she’s alone. Well, other than the black cat with a collar that reads Lucky. He hisses at me as I enter her space. He doesn’t normally, but I think he can sense that I shouldn’t be here.
“Just checking on our girl,” I explain. There’s no work order for her apartment. Not today. There’s no reason for me to be here.
If she has cameras around the place, she could complain to her landlord, but she doesn’t have them. I know. I’ve checked every time I’m here.
This time, I start my inspection with her kitchen. Her cupboards are stocked with the staples of peanut butter and pre-packaged noodles along with some sad looking protein bars that were in here the last time I checked on her. The fridge isn’t full, but it has a few things. Enough that it eases my worry she might be going hungry.
Briefly, I leaf through the mail on her kitchen table. It’s a wobbly thing that’s probably secondhand from the thrift shop in town. Nothing interesting is in the mail. A couple of vet bills and a notice that her utilities are due soon. But no credit card bills, high interest loans, or overdue notices.
Lucky comes in the room to hiss at me again.
I hold up my hands to show him I’m no threat. I’m not here to do anything other than look after a young woman who’s on her own. I tell myself it’s only because Susie is the same age as my daughter. It’s nothing more than my protective, fatherly instincts.
Moving to the living room, I spot the dollhouse she’s been working on. Maybe this is what haunts me about Susie. She builds intricate dollhouses that are seasonally themed.
This one is decorated to look like a cozy living room with a tiny Christmas tree in the middle. But it’s the mini stockings hung above the fireplace that make me smile. She thinks of every detail.
The only missing items are the dolls. There are never any figures in her homes. Is that an intentional choice? Does she do it because she’s lonely?
The wooden figurine in the pocket of my leather jacket burns. It’s an angel that I hand-carved. Spent hours laboring over it, trying to get every detail just right for her.
Before I can second-guess myself, I pull it out and set it in the middle of the scene. I nod, noting that it seems to fit. Then I exit her apartment before I can talk myself out of leaving it behind. It’s a silly gift, a trinket. She probably won’t even notice that it’s there.
As soon as I’m out of the building, I head straight to the gym in town. Hale owns it and the apartment building I was just in. I work on projects for a lot of folks in town as a handyman. I have been for the past couple of years.
But the gym isn’t just where I go to invoice Hale. It’s also where Susie works. If I’ve timed it right, she’s there right now at the front check-in desk.
Her hair will be in a messy bun with tendrils falling loose as she directs busy mamas with their kids underfoot to the mommy and
me classes. Then she’ll try to fix the smoothie machine that’s always breaking down in between sneaking sips of her favorite hot chocolate beverage from Courage Cookies.
“Say hi to her this time, ...
