CHAPTER ONE
IRIS THOMPSON GROANED as she felt the couch springs dig into her back. She tried to reposition herself, but just couldn’t get comfortable. Her body ached and her legs were cramped from spending yet another night on her best friend’s sofa .
When she opened her eyes, the living room was dark. The only light she could see was from the flashing bright neon lights of the wall clock hanging in the nearby hall. It was 3:47 A.M. Iris groaned again, this time louder and more annoyed. She buried her face in the thin pillow, determined to fall back asleep again. She tossed and turned, but it was to no avail. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling with her hands clasped over her stomach as she contemplated the odds of spending yet another sleepless night, miserable and alone. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. At least, not hers.
Seconds later, a small black creature jumped onto the couch and joined her. Her friend’s cat, Misty, rubbed against her, begging for attention. “Are Olivia and George at it again?” Iris whispered to the cat, “Did they kick you out?” Iris gently scratched Misty behind the ears. The cat arched her back appreciatively and let out a melodic purr. Shortly after, the sound of George’s groans reverberated through the small apartment. The walls were paper thin and Iris could hear the bed in the next room rocking.
She sighed, resigning herself to the idea that any hope of restful and blissful sleep was probably permanently lost now. She sat up on the sofa and decided that if she couldn’t sleep, she might as well eat to fill the void even though it wasn’t food that she necessarily craved. As she tip-toed toward the kitchen, she strained her eyes to form shapes in the dark. She used her hands clumsily to help feel her way through the living room, but not before she stubbed her big left toe on the coffee table. “Ah, Fuck me!” She yelled out, hopping on one foot as the sharp pain radiated through her leg.
The moans from the next room stopped abruptly. “Is everything alright out there?” Olivia called out, her voice ragged.
“Yeah. Just great.” Iris muttered loudly enough so her friend could hear. Moments later, the lovers were back at it again. This time, it was Olivia’s distinct, high-pitched moans that Iris heard. Cats in heat, Iris thought to herself. The bed, however, had stopped rocking. Iris stood silently at the entrance to the hall and listened. She felt guilty and slightly embarrassed for eavesdropping, but above all else she was annoyed that she had to listen to their love making. In such a small apartment, there was really no way to avoid it.
Olivia and George hooked up just a few months ago, not long after the shit hit the fan for Iris. They met at the magazine Olivia wrote for. It started as one of those forbidden workplace love affairs. Olivia was an arts and entertainment reporter and George had just started as an editor on the news desk. For them, it was a textbook case of insta-love, or rather insta-lust. For a while, they tried to keep it a secret, but everyone already seemed to know. They were still in that honeymoon phase of their relationship where they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. They were constantly at it—day and night. From the sounds of it, the sex was good, frequent, sloppy and loud. Hearing them together made Iris ache with loneliness. It had been such a long time since she’d been intimate with anyone—too long. Iris felt a ball of jealousy swell in the pit of her stomach at the thought of the happy couple fucking the night away.
Misty rubbed against Iris’ leg and startled her out of her trance-like state. She sighed and stumbled into the kitchen. When she turned the overhead light on, the fluorescent bulbs flickered and a giant cockroach scurried for cover. It was a small, cramped space, just like everything else in the apartment. The counters were cluttered with second-rate appliances Olivia had picked up at various yard sales and thrift stores. The stove had only one working burner. The cabinets and counters, worn and grubby from years of use, were covered with a sticky residue that never seemed to go away no matter how hard you scrubbed. Still, this was New York City, and if you were on a budget, this was all you could afford. The next cheapest option would be sleeping in the subway stations. Iris was young. She was smart and educated. She had her health and her entire future ahead of her. She should feel lucky and yet she didn’t.
Iris grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and walked over to the rickety dining table perched near the window. Misty followed Iris and jumped on the table as she peered out of the soot and grime-infested window at the alley below. The moon shone bright and a few lights illuminated the narrow corridor. There were some dumpsters at the end and several rusty trash cans filled with garbage. Some of the canisters, however, were toppled. Their contents were on full display, roughly strewn on the ground. While the spoils had clearly already been picked through, a hopeful and lone rat could be seen taking a turn at rummaging through the remains, looking for something to eat. Disappointed by what was left, the rat scuttled away, its tail looking deflated, or so Iris thought.
“I know how you feel little buddy…” she mumbled softly, slouching into a nearby chair that was just about ready to collapse. She could only imagine what would have happened if she still had on her Freshman 15. That was one thing about being young, near homeless and under-employed, you had all the time in the world to get in shape.
Taking up running was one of the few good choices Iris had made in her life since graduating from college. Running helped clear her head and she needed that now. Running was her catharsis. It was like therapy for her.
Every day like clockwork, she’d suit up, which meant she’d throw on some leggings, grab a hoodie and lace up her tennies. She’d crank up the music on her Mp3 to block out the rest of the world and distract her from her own thoughts, and then she’d hit the pavement. She always ran the same five mile route along the path circling Central Park. While only the left side of her earbuds still worked, she knew that having one that worked was better than having nothing at all. She needed to be able to milk her current setup for all it was worth because there was no way that she could afford anything else.
Her life had seriously gone to shit over the last several months—ever since she caught Kaleb, her fiancé of five years, cheating on her with Sabrina Lockwood, one of her former classmates. In fact, it was Iris who introduced Sabrina to Kaleb and she even invited her over to their house for dinner. Wow, what a mistake that was. And in some kind of weird twist of fate, Kaleb managed to retain ownership of the house they bought together and he convinced Iris to move out of their home so Sabrina could move in. Oh, and Kaleb also kept custody of their dog, Dexter. Life was unimaginably cruel sometimes.
It was not so long ago that everyone thought she had the perfect life and so did she. Kaleb was the perfect boyfriend and she and Kaleb had what looked was the perfect relationship. Kaleb never forgot Friday night date night. He always made breakfast on Saturdays and on Sundays they read The New York Times together. She and Kaleb were so rock solid that they even bought a cute house together in the burbs and got a dog.
So, what happened? How did she not see this coming? Now all of her friends just felt sorry for her. She knew they gossiped and whispered behind her back. She wasn’t even sure if most of them were her friends anymore. She felt like Olivia was the only true friend she could still trust. Ever since high school, Olivia had been her staunchest supporter and most trusted ally. Olivia always had her back. Thank God for friends like Olivia.
She still felt queasy at the thought of how it all went down. They say when you break up with someone, there are five stages of grief you need to work through to get over them. At first, she experienced denial. She couldn’t believe it was happening to her. Then there was anger. She wanted to gouge Kaleb’s eyes out with a rusty spoon. She eventually moved on to bargaining and depression, but sometimes she felt herself slip back into anger. She was still feeling vulnerable and raw. They also say you need to give yourself at least a month to grieve for every year you were in the relationship. And so if that were the case, she could expect to remain in a funk for at least two more freaking months.
She wasn’t sure how she let it all happen and why she didn’t fight more to keep what was rightfully half hers. She replayed parts of their relationship in her head over and over again, looking for clues that could help her understand why and how this happened to her. If only she’d been more observant, maybe she could’ve avoided this outcome. If only she’d known not to let that home-wrecking bitch into her life, maybe Kaleb never would have thought of cheating.
Sometimes when she was feeling especially dark, sad and sorry for herself, she’d wonder if it was her all along and not him. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if she’d been a better girlfriend. Maybe he wouldn’t have cheated if she had sex with him more often. Maybe if she was willing to be more experimental in bed. Maybe she just wasn’t good in bed. Maybe she was a lousy fuck. She’d spiral through the entire roster of questions and self-loathing again. Each time though, she’d arrive at the same conclusion: Who the hell knows how and why Kaleb did what he did. Ultimately, she just felt foolish. How could she have been so blind? How did she not realize Kaleb was a lying cheating bastard?
She’d never been one to be overly confident, always more of a follower than a leader. She usually just did whatever Kaleb wanted and for the most part that worked out. So when she walked in on Kaleb and Sabrina while they were fucking in her bed, she was devastated. It was like the wheels were already set in motion by some kind of invisible force and she didn’t have any control over what happened next. All she could do was watch in horror as her life veered violently off script.
Iris slammed her fist on the table in such a fury that Misty hissed at her and ran away. She walked back to the kitchen and opened the drawer above the cabinet next to the fridge. She rummaged through its contents, a random and chaotic collection of miscellaneous things. “C’mon, there’s got to be a pen in here somewhere…” She grumbled, sifting through dead batteries, rubber bands, letter openers, plastic forks, and of course, stretched-out hair elastics.
She eventually found a chewed-up, ballpoint pen. She grabbed a paper napkin and scribbled on it to test the ink. To her relief, the pen worked. She grabbed a few more napkins and went back to the table. She sat down and closed her eyes as she tried to remember what her old life looked like. When she opened her eyes, she let her hand wander across the paper as she tried to draw from her memories.
There was a red brick walkway, a small garden in the front yard and flower boxes lining the window sills. The house was grey with black trim. There was a stout brick chimney that sprouted from the far side of the house. There were big picture windows in both the front and back of the house that let in the morning and afternoon sun. The house was far from perfect and needed work, but she loved everything about it including the large broken thermostat on the wall to the left of the door. It really was a hideous monstrosity, but she loved it anyways. But what she loved most about the house was the big somber looking yellow knocker on the bright red door. She refused to install a doorbell, so that everyone who visited had to use the knocker instead.
But none of this mattered anymore—not the flower boxes, not the garden, not the knocker and not even the malfunctioning thermostat. All she had left was a crumbled-up paper napkin with crude drawings of broken memories. She cringed at the sight of her primitive depictions. How had her life been destroyed so quickly? Frustrated, she shredded the paper and threw the small pieces onto the table, but they were weightless and fluttered to the floor instead. She ceremoniously stood up and ground the tiny pieces of paper into the floor with the bottoms of her feet.
She didn’t want to think about her cheating fiancé, or the cute little house in the suburbs she used to call home. She couldn’t even bring herself to think of Dexter without tearing up. She’d raised Dexter from the time he was a puppy. He was her constant companion and now he was gone. In some ways she was more pissed off about losing Dexter than she was about losing Kaleb or the house. Her heart ached as she desperately wished she could forget it all, but she couldn’t. The wound to her heart was too deep and raw.
She trudged back to the living room and collapsed onto the lumpy couch. She pulled the thin blanket over her shoulders and closed her eyes. In the end, she didn’t eat the apple and Misty never came back.
Outside, the morning was just getting started. The orange and pink-hued sky stretched across the horizon as the sun was just starting to make its appearance for the day. Neighbors were running showers. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted over from the apartment across the hall. Activity was beginning to pick up in the street. Cars rumbled, telephones rang and espresso machines gurgled. These were the sights, sounds and smells of the city waking up and getting ready for the day. All of this made Iris feel extremely small and insignificant in the world.
From the next room, Iris heard a long, drawn-out and satisfied sigh. Olivia and George had finally finished their business. Iris curled up tighter on the couch. She yearned for a warm embrace or a tender touch.