I don’t know what to think about all of this. I feel good about Domenica, but at the same time it seems almost too easy, how we slipped into a sort of togetherness. We haven’t talked enough yet to quiet the little voice on my mind telling me there has must have been some kind of mistake. She probably saw another girl at the bar and mistook her for me. Yeah, I know I’m being paranoid.

I don’t know what to make of her… beliefs. She doesn’t appear to be a lunatic. She also makes a pretty good case for herself. I can agree, nod, comply, but I’m not sure how far I’m willing to get involved in that part of her life. Is it really something we can skip, if it’s such a major part of her life?

Look at me making life plans. We aren’t even officially dating yet. I hope it’s a ‘yet’.

I’ve been cycling down the town center hill towards the river. Pulling up a sidewalk, I take out my phone. It would be a pretty good idea to call Rodrigo now. He doesn’t live that far and I need to thank him for the job. Sure, I may have spent the day shoveling poop, but if I ever get a pay-check, it’ll be thanks to him.

I try calling him a couple times but there is no answer. I leave a message in which I sort of omit my late morning arrival. What he doesn’t can’t hurt him.

“Hey, Rodrigo, it’s Deb, Deborah Reed. I wanted to know if you’re alright? They told me you called in sick today, I signed the papers and all, though I didn’t read much of it. Maybe we could go over that later… Anyway, take care of yourself, get better and see you at work soon, hopefully. Thank you. Bye.”

Time to go see how Tig has been doing since yesterday. Man, this day is turning into nurse care pretty fast. How come everyone is so down? Maybe it’s that school flu thing Nathan was talking about. Maybe having so many unemployed people, so many insecure jobs doesn’t do much for a healthy lifestyle. Maybe it’s the storms and hail.

Well, I’m out there, getting healthier by the minute with all the cycling. I wonder if that’s still healthy when there’s a lot of traffic. I follow the small roads into Tig’s southern suburbs. That part of town is surprisingly beautiful, full of nature, parks and old buildings. Expensive, of course. Without the roomies, Tig and Leon couldn’t have afforded it. Pretty soon, the miniature garden is in sight and I park my bike along the fence, locking it to the metal rods.

I ring the bell. Pretty soon, I hear the sound of footsteps and Tig opens the door.

“Hey, you,” she says, smiling. She looks well rested and alert. I feel so relieved! I didn’t even know I was holding it in like that. The downside of playing it cool, I guess.

“Hey!” I say. I sight and give her a big hug. “You look good!”

“Yeah, I’m better,” says Tig. “You came here just to check on me?”

“Well,” I say, “you had me pretty worried yesterday. I though it’d be better… Oh, by the way, I saw Leon at the factory. I didn’t know he had also taken up a job there?”

“Leon is fine,” she says, “he’s a hard worker.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. Tig is being dodgy again. Maybe things aren’t so good between them. It would be a shame, they’re really cute together. Plus she’s fragile enough as it is. “Hey, now that I work there, I’m gonna be able to pay you back soon, in two weeks or so? Is that cool for you?”

“Of course,” she says, “if the factory calls, you have to go.” She smiles a lot more than yesterday, that’s for sure.

“Yeah, that’s the job, I guess,” I say. “But I don’t think I’ve given them my phone number? So I’m probably gonna be on a fixed schedule.” Dave told me to be there at ten in the morning, I hope that’s the actual time that’s written on my contract. “I will find that out, the details are a little fuzzy.”

“OK,” she says, still standing at the doorstep. She’s usually more into dresses and flowery prints, but right now she’s opted for a knitted sweater, sweatpants and a scarf. With the weather we’ve been having, it might not be such a bad idea to stay warm.

“How was your day, by the way?” I say.

“It was a good day,” she says. “I went to the neighborhood association? We had a preparation meeting for the Yolkside Lunch.”

“Sounds good!” I say. The event is a sort of giant picnic in Yolkside Park, in the middle of summer. People bring snacks, sunscreen and umbrellas. I totally see Tig into that kind of stuff. “I can’t wait! When was it? Next week?”

“This week-end, actually,” she says. “You don’t wanna miss it.”

“I won’t, it sounds exciting,” I say. It’ll be good to spend some time with her, relax, enjoy life.

“So,” I say, “do you think you’ll manage tonight? I could come in and stay a while if you’d rather have company.”

“I’ll be fine,” she says, “thanks for dropping by.”

I give her another big hug and I’m gone. I’m a bit relieved. At the same time, I feel like she’s holding back on me these days. I wonder how much of what she told me was really what she said. At least she doesn’t seem to be at a breaking point anymore.

It’s time to go home. The one thing I haven’t missed in two days.

---

Thing is, it hasn’t been that much time since I came back to Brooding Peaks. I was penniless, jobless: what was I supposed to do? That’s how I came back to my parent’s place.

My parents are not monsters, they’re pretty much fine people. In some contexts, I’d even call them cool. They just haven’t gotten over the fact that I’m an adult, take responsibility for myself and make my own decisions. That’s a heavy context to live in.

When I see Domenica, the passion she has for her job, quirky as it may seem, the way she’s raising Nathan to be such a composed little guy, I feel like such a kid. No driving license. Not a hint of a career. Living at my parent’s place. I know there were circumstances, but I feel seriously ashamed when I think about how I live and how she might see it.

I drop the bike in the garage shed and open the front door. It’s never locked. I call out.

“Anyone home?” I say. Immediately, my mom appears out of the kitchen. I see her face and I know why I stayed away.

“I know you’re free to do whatever you want, but you could have called,” she says. “No matter if you ‘allow’ me or not, I’m gonna get worried if you go see a friend and don’t come back until the next day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. I hate this. Please do not force me back into the role of a teenager. I don’t want to get upset and diss you, I don’t want to ignore you. Why can’t you just ask me how my day was, or something else that’s not aggressive?

“So,” I say, “I got the job with Rodrigo, and I started today.”

“Well, I hope you thanked Rodrigo properly for that, because it’s not with your job-hunting skills that you got employed.” Thanks again. There’s no winning with you.

“I will, but he took the day off,” I say. “They said he was ill.”

“Nothing too serious, I hope?” she says.

I shrug. “I have no idea. I guess not or they would have told me?”

“You don’t think it could be a work accident?” she says. “Who knows how dangerous this factory job actually is.”

I sigh. “It’s probably more like a cold. There’s an epidemic going on apparently, with the bad weather we’ve had.”

“Well,” she says, “if you’re so sure, there is no need to worry about him, then, is there? Why are you in such a hurry to find a job anyway?”

Ugh. We’ve talked about that about ten times already. “Because I can’t live here forever?” And also I seriously need to be independent again. Can you imagine how crippling it feels to have to rely on outside help for everything because I’m out of cash?

I already told her that, too. I’m so tired of repeating the same things.

“You barely got a job and you want to spend half your pay renting a place?” she says. “I think you’ve got you priorities backwards.”

I’ve had enough for the night. “Good thing you’re not the one who gets to decide what my priorities are, then,” I say.

Without waiting for an answer, I grab my jacket and go to my old room, upstairs. I’m gonna get an earful about this in the morning, but it’s better than dealing with it now. I don’t have the energy to stop her from getting under my skin. Better give up! I drop on the comforter. I’ve had a tiring day, but this was easily the most exhausting moment.

It’s not gonna take me long to fall asleep. I undress and settle in my bed. It’s the first time in a long while that I don’t feel alone at that moment. I’m remembering last night.

Good night, Domenica.