I Am Happy by Lindsey Betty

I Am Happy by Lindsey Betty

I woke up one morning and decided to be happy. My alarm clock buzzed from the other side of the room, but for a moment I just lied there, blinking slowly at the four cobwebbed corners of the ceiling. The white plaster was smeared with gray along the edges, and a few flies danced lazily about my vision, but when I looked directly overhead and unfocused my eyes, the ceiling began to look like a blank sheet of paper. I am happy, I thought. I am confident, driven, likable, and happy.

I leaned up and looked across the room. On my desk, the alarm clock blinked 8:05 in mindless block letters, casting a severe red glow on a heap of McDonald’s wrappers, paper plates, junk mail, dirty clothes, and other bits of detritus; all the accumulation of the last decade sleeping in this room, this bed. My life, my things, in heaps on the floor. I am happy. I am so happy.

I swung my legs out of bed and high-stepped over to shut off the alarm. A tiny set of feet came scrambling down the hall. My cat, Big Geoff, stared at me from the doorway, his moon-eyes reflecting the light of the streetlamp outside my window. He meowed at me, a terse, expectant meow, and I said hello in return. He jumped over the garbage on the floor and landed on my shoulder. I felt his warm fur and his trembling purrs on my face. Positively thriving.

I walked out into the living room, Big Geoff on my shoulder, and picked up his food and water bowls to refill them. He slipped down at once and began to crunch happily away at his breakfast. I returned to my room to get dressed. I put on the normal – an old band t-shirt and some wrinkly blue-jeans I had kept up on my desk, away from the mess on the floor. But when I went to look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I thought I didn’t look very happy, so I returned to my room and dug around for something that might better reflect my inner joy. I came up with an only slightly dusty pair of leggings in an ill-used corner where you could still see at least some of the wood floor beneath the piles of refuse. I put them on and returned to the mirror. I looked better, but still not as good as I felt, so I dug around in the cabinet until I came up with some lip gloss. I applied it then looked in the mirror. There it was. Happy. With sparkly pink lips to prove it.

I gave Big Geoff a scratch on the head, then drove to work with the windows rolled down. The morning felt fresh and alive and I felt fresh and alive within it. Fresh and clean.

I worked at a Holiday Inn by the interstate. Ginny, the receptionist, flashed me a phony smile as she handed me the work keys. “Hey, Angela, you look great! Love the lip gloss.”

“I feel great.” I said, then walked past her toward the housekeeping closet. I feel great.

I worked steadily and solitarily, humming a joyful little tune as I went – wiping down tables, changing trash bags, scrubbing toilets. It was easy work, and I was glad to do it. I was especially courteous with the residents. I knocked on their doors firmly but politely, three perfectly precise thumps – no more, no less. I asked if there was anything at all I could do for them. They smiled and said yes, and I did whatever they asked. Or they said no, and I moved on.

I took lunch with Ginny. She stared quietly at her phone and chewed on her sandwich while I nibbled on a candy bar from the vending machine. This is great, I thought. We’re very good friends.

My last room for the day was room 324, down at the end of the hall. I went to do my normal three knocks, but the door opened between the second and third. It revealed a man, well dressed and close to six feet tall. He smiled, a big, earnest smile that made his cheeks wrinkle and his eyes dance with light. I smiled back, but since I wasn’t able to complete my three knocks on the door, I was caught off guard and found myself unsure what to say.

He spoke first. “You’re the housekeeping lady, I take it?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is there anything I c-”

He stretched out his hand. “I’m John Harris. You can call me Jack, everybody does. I’ll be in town for a little while, on business.”

“Business.” I grabbed his outstretched hand and shook, making sure to keep the corners of my mouth drawn up into a smile. “Yes, well. Is there anything…”

“What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah, your name. I like to get to know the help, makes wherever I’m staying feel more like home.”

“My name is Angela Blair.”

“Angela Blair! What a pretty name. Why don’t you come on in? I could use a couple replacement trash bags, and the toilet could use a scrub. It was dirty when I checked in last night.”

“Of course,” I said, then set about my work while he blabbered on about whatever it was he did for a living. He stood behind me and watched as I perched on my knees and ran the scrubber along the inside of the toilet. He was saying something about zoning laws. Fresh and new, I thought. Fresh and new.

As I finished up, he asked. “So, is there anything to do around town? Any good restaurants I should know about? I’ve found some online, but I’d love to hear it from a local.”

I rose and turned to him. “Usually I eat at McDonald’s. Maybe pizza rolls or something, if I don’t feel like going through the drive-thru. Then I watch TV or scroll on my phone or pet my cat, Big Geoff. He’s…”

He laughed, and put his big hand on my shoulder. A tremor went through me.

“McDonald’s!” he said through his chuckle. “The local flavor, everywhere I go. Well, I tell you what, Angela, that sounds lovely. If you ever want some company while you’re eating Big Macs and watching The Office, give me a ring and I’ll swing by. I’m easy to find on Facebook, I’ve got…”

“Usually I get the McNuggets.”

He laughed again. “You’re a hoot, Angela. Anybody ever tell you that?”

My cheeks burned. A day of being happy and already I had a new friend. “My apartment is on Chestnut Street,” I said. “Room 207.”

His hand fell from my shoulder. “Well…” He looked at me with a kind of perplexed excitement that I found irresistible. “Great. Sounds like a date? Maybe tonight?”

“That would be lovely,” I said, and made my way to the door.

He said something else, but I shut the door before I could hear it. I stowed my housekeeping cart and hurried home to prepare.

& & &

I had scarcely pushed my apartment door open before Big Geoff landed on my shoulder.

“Hey there, big boy,” I said as I leaned my face into his warm body. He said nothing in response, but I felt his appreciation in the gentle vibrations beneath his skin. “Mommy’s got a date tonight, isn’t that exciting?”

Very exciting, I thought. Then, looking around at the stained carpet – the smudged windows through which the light outside became a dull, streaky haze; the ill-used and cat-scratched couch, piled upon by junk and facing an old flatscreen with a crack running along the right side – I thought, I’d better do some cleaning.

I popped open a can of wet food for Big Geoff, shared in his delight as I watched him wolf it down, then opened up the kitchen cabinet to see if I had any Windex. I scanned past the little clusters of mouse feces and roach leavings, stuff that didn’t need to be cleaned with any kind of immediacy. It was, after all, unlikely my new friend would open the cabinet doors and see. What was his name? I thought. James? Jim? Then, Oh god, I’m so excited. A visitor! After all this time.

As it happened, I did have some Windex, though I couldn’t remember buying it. As I sprayed the windows behind the television and wiped them down with toilet paper – I couldn’t find any paper towels – I looked at my faint reflection, the bags under my eyes and the frizzy tangle of hair pulled up into a bun, and I thought, I look so old now. And then, I wonder if Amelia looks this old now too.

Amelia had been my room-mate. We went to high school together in some small town best left forgotten, and when she was accepted into a college here in Decatur I begged her not to go. She told me she had to, that she was sorry, and I sobbed and sobbed and pleaded. “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” So she agreed to bring me with her. At first I had planned to enroll at the college, but instead I started working at Holiday Inn. She appreciated the extra income, and for a while we were as happy as I could imagine.

We were together when we found Big Geoff meowing desperately by the dumpster outside. We took him in, even though we weren’t allowed to have pets, and for four years we were a family. I loved her, and I think she loved me. After she graduated, she found a job somewhere in California. She offered to take me with, but didn’t extend the offer to Big Geoff. She was to be making quite a lot of money, and I suppose she didn’t want an unruly dumpster cat tearing up her nice, new furniture. She said she could find him a good home, that she had many friends who would love to take him in, but I refused. And so here Big Geoff and I remained some eight years later, still together, still in the same apartment Amelia and I had once shared.

Suddenly I felt a knot in my stomach, and I couldn’t focus on cleaning any longer. I left the windex on the window-sill and moved over to the bathroom mirror. Gross, I thought. You’re disgusting. Look at your hair. What, do mice live there?

I pulled the tie out and let my hair fall, messy and tangled, around my shoulders. Happy, I thought. You’re happy, happy, happy. Get that brush and make it show.

I pulled a brush from the drawer and grimaced as I worked it through the tangles.  By the time I’d gotten my hair halfway straight, tears were rolling down my cheek. Tears of joy, I thought.

I reapplied the lip gloss and looked in the mirror again. Almost pretty. Almost. But too shabby. I threw off my decade-old t-shirt and dingy leggings and looked around for something nicer to wear. I desperately scoured the piles of refuse in my room, but came up empty. I was just about to give up, just about to call the whole thing off, when I remembered the closet. It had hardly been used since Amelia moved out, and it still had some of her things in it. Before, I hadn’t wished to disturb them should she ever want them back. But now, deciding that I cared no longer, I flung it open and began to search. I found what I was looking for toward the back, on top of a cardboard box with its bottom corners eaten away by mice. A silken black party dress, the one Amelia had often worn on her nights out. I picked it up and listened to the scattered bits of mouse dung fall out and spread across the floor. I gave it a good shake, and heard more of that unmistakable pitter patter. Once I was certain it was poop-free, I slipped it on and returned to the mirror. Beautiful, I thought, admiring how its short skirt hugged the gentle curve of my thigh. Beautiful, carefree, young. Happy.

I pulled out my phone to search Facebook for my date. To my surprise, I already had a friend request from a profile with the name Jack Harris. Of course that was his name, I thought. How could I forget so soon? I messaged him a smiley face.

He replied almost instantly, “Still on for tonight?”

I snapped a selfie in the mirror, making sure to show the beautiful curves of my dress, and sent it. “Ready whenever,” I said.

“Be there soon..”

It was then that I remembered the pile of garbage in my room, and the matching pile on the couch. In a panic, I made the decision that our date would take place in the living room, so I moved all that was on the couch onto my bed, one heaping armful at a time, until the couch’s dusty surface was fully revealed. I shut my bedroom up and took a seat in front of the television. Soon after came a quiet, arrhythmic knock at the front door, and I nearly squealed with excitement as I rose to answer it.

When I opened the door, I found Jack standing behind it, smiling sheepishly with a bag of McDonald’s in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “Good afternoon, Miss Blair,” he said, his eyes tracing my body up and down. His little smile widened to a warm grin. “May I come in?”

“Absolutely,” I said, doing my best to match his warmth.

He paused inside the door and scanned briefly around. I watched as he did this, suddenly conscious of the cobwebs on the ceiling and the stains on the carpet. But then his eyes fixed on me, perhaps noticing I was watching him, and he handed me the McDonald’s bag. “So,” he said. “This a shoes-off at the door kinda place?”

“Oh.” I almost giggled. “Oh no. I mean, if you wish. It really doesn’t matter. Sorry if it’s a bit of a mess, I’ve just been so busy.”

“Not a problem at all!” he said. “I get it. Probably get your fill of cleaning at work.”

“Exactly!” I said, relieved. “I’m glad you understand. You know, I’ve been nerv-”

“So where are we gonna eat this stuff?” He interrupted, walking in as I shut the door behind him. “I got you a ten piece and some fries. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Oh, yes.” I said. “It’s my favorite. Here, on the couch is fine. Just sit and I’ll get the TV hooked up.”

“Sounds grand,” he said. “Do you have any cups for the wine?”

“Yes,” I answered, bent over to plug the TV into the wall. I sensed his eyes moving up my legs. “I have plastic cups, in the cupboard. I’ll grab them in a second.”

“No need,” he said, rising. “You said it was in the cupboard? Which one?”

“To the right of the sink.” I said. Then, remembering the mouse poop and roach carcasses I’d failed to clean out, “Really, it’s okay. I’ll get it.”

But when I rose, he was already in the kitchen. “Nonsense,” he said, swinging the cupboard open. He paused then, examining the bare contents. I watched him, achingly aware that he was looking at the years of build up I had so long ignored. When he came away I expected him to scold me, tell me how gross I was, maybe run off. But he didn’t. He just smiled, affecting the same warm expression as he had at the door. Though it was changed, I thought. Ever so slightly, like the geniality spread across his mouth but died once it reached his eyes. Those eyes just looked at me, with studying, animal interest. “Got the TV going?” he asked.

“Yes!” I grabbed the remote and sat down, my anxiety dissipating beneath my growing excitement as I remembered this would be the first time I’d gotten to sit and eat dinner with a friend since Amelia left. “What would you like to watch?”

“Anything’s cool with me.” He poured his wine into a red cup and took a swig, then lowered it to the ground at his feet. “Is it alright if I set this on the floor?”

“I don’t know where else you’d put it,” I said, and he laughed. I grabbed the wine, poured myself a cup, and drank it all in one go. I poured another and set it at my feet. “How about the Office?”

“Sounds lovely.”

I put it on and we both tore through our meals, almost before the theme song finished. He smiled at me as we ate, and I tried not to feel conscious of the feverishness with which I chewed. It was the same meal I’d eaten nearly every day for years, and I often felt that I enjoyed it less and less each time. But now, sharing it with a good friend, it seemed to taste the same way it had all those years ago, when Amelia and I would go through the drive-thru together and have our meals in the parking lot; laughing, filling our lungs with weed and our tummies with grease.

Jack rose. I opened my mouth, almost begged him not to leave, but he just asked me where the bathroom was. I told him it was down the hall to the left.

I heard him open the door on the right, the one to my bedroom, and my stomach sank. “To the left!” I shouted.

“Right…” he said, though he remained at my bedroom door. I heard a series of crashes and thumps, the mad crinkling of paper bags, and realized Big Geoff had been shut in there. He came peeling out of the room and jumped up onto the couch.

Jack didn’t say anything. I heard the bedroom door shut and the bathroom door open. I sat and pet Big Geoff, desperately worried that Jack would leave now that he’d seen the state of my bedroom. A few minutes later the toilet flushed, and he came out and plopped down beside me. He downed the rest of his cup of wine and poured himself another. “You didn’t tell me you had a cat.”

“Oh.” I smiled, despite my embarrassment. “Yes, his name is Geoff. Big Geoff. We found him years ago, out by the dumpster. He’s a sweet little guy.”

Jack scratched Big Geoff behind the ears and gave a little smile. He drank more of his wine. “Well, I’m glad you have somebody to keep you company.”

We watched the show in silence, broken up by the occasional chuckle at something on screen. I was beginning to find the silence very painful, growing too anxious, imagining what he must have thought when he looked into my room. Then I remembered my resolution, my new, unbound happiness, and I bent over to drink another cup of wine. When I did so, I felt his hand touch my back, and a shiver rocked my spine. I leaned back and looked at him, realizing now that he was sitting much closer than he had been at first. I felt the denim of his pant leg rub against my bare thigh. He smiled. “You look so pretty in that dress,” he said, and then his hand was on my leg, moving up. I froze, whether in delight or in fear I wasn’t sure. It had been years since I’d felt anybody else’s hand moving on that part of my body. I shivered, trembled, almost cried, and soon his other hand was under my back, caressing me. He kissed my neck. Then my chest.

I surrendered, and before long my dress was on the floor, and we were horizontal on the couch. In the midst of our passion, I looked up to the back of the couch, and saw Big Geoff’s luminescent eyes looking down on me, as if in judgment. I closed my eyes until it was over, which wasn’t very long.

Afterwards, I felt dizzy with emotion. I felt whole for the first time in years, like some lost part of me had been restored, but mostly I felt a great need to stay in Jack’s warm embrace. As my head swam in this new warmth, this unparalleled joy, I felt Jack’s body slip away from mine. “No!” I cried out.

“Sorry, hon,” he said, already standing. “I got work tonight, I’ve stayed just as long as I can.”

I blinked hard and shook my head. “Can’t you…could you come back when you’re done? You could sleep here, you know. I…”

He kissed me on the forehead. “I’m allergic to cats. Sorry, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow at the hotel though, right?”

“Right…” I said. “I suppose I’ll see you then.”

Then the door was shut, and I was alone, naked on the dirty couch. I felt tears begin to well up, but I shut them out. I am happy, I thought. Happy, confident, driven.

Big Geoff slinked down from the back of the couch, onto the arm next to me, then looked up at me and purred expectantly. I smiled, and gave him the pets he desired. “I guess it’s just you and me for another night,” I said, at the same time remembering what Jack had said about being allergic to cats. “You and me,” I repeated, quieter this time. “You and me.”

I lied there with Big Geoff purring on my chest until I fell asleep, savoring his company, remembering what there was to remember of the last several years, thinking, I am happy. I am confident. I am independent.

…I don’t need you.

The next morning, I woke up early to put Big Geoff up for adoption. When I woke from my sleep, he was staring down at me from the back of the couch. I smiled up at him. “I’m sorry, Geoff-y baby. I can’t…we can’t keep living like this, you and me. I think I’ve been dying in little bits every day since Amelia left us here. You kept me going all these years, but you deserve a better life, a better home. And…I deserve a person who loves me and takes care of me, the way I’ve been taking care of you. I’ve been using you as a crutch, I see that now that I’ve gotten happy. And Jack, he says he’s allergic…you do understand, don’t you?”

He meowed, solitary, soft, and pleading. Hungry.

I rose to get his food, but rather than put it on the floor, I put it in the back of a cat carrier that had been sitting in the closet.

When he saw the food, he looked first up at me, then stepped into the cramped little compartment. I had gotten it when he was a kitten, and now he was nearly too big. At first he ate happily, but when I slid the door shut and locked him inside, he spun in a little circle, eyes wide with panic, then looked up at me with such betrayal as I’ve never seen on another living face. He meowed once. The hunger was gone from his tone, but the pleading remained.

I grabbed my dress from the floor and slipped it on, thinking of seeing Jack again at work. Then I applied some lip gloss, grabbed Big Geoff’s carrier by the handle, and walked out the door.

At first Big Geoff was silent and still, but once we stepped into the open air I felt him lurch against the sides of the container. “It’s okay, baby,” I said in my most soothing tone. “It’ll be over soon.”

He pleaded and groaned the whole trip to the shelter. High, desperate meows followed by low, unsure grumbles. I kept reaching over and touching his fur through the front grate, telling him it was okay, but it didn’t seem to calm him. I steeled myself against his cries, thinking repeatedly. Happy, happy, happy. This is your life. Your life. Not Geoff’s. Not Amelia’s. Yours. And you’re happy, happy, happy.

We pulled in and I carried him to the front desk. When I set his carrier on the counter, a tired-looking lady with graying hair and glasses looked me up and down. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“This is Big Geoff,” I said. “He likes gravy treats, cardboard boxes, sharpening his claws on the sofa, and sitting on open window sills and feeling the wind in his whiskers. I found him by the dumpster ten years ago, and I’ve been raising him ever since. I love him, and he loves me. But I recently met somebody, who I plan on moving in with, and he’s allergic to cats. You’ll take care of Geoff for me, won’t you? You’ll be good to him?”

She gave a small, sad smile. “Yes,” she said. “We’ll do our very best.”

She pushed a little stack of papers over to me, and I filled them in as quickly as I could. When I handed them back to her, she looked up at me with more sympathy and concern than I could bear. “You’re sure about this, hon?” she asked. “You don’t want a few days to think it over?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “It’s my life. It doesn’t belong to a cat.”

Her smile dropped, and she turned her attention to the papers. “Alright then, I suppose everything’s in order. Why don’t you bring him back?”

She rose, and walked me over to a door with a small window at the top. We crossed the threshold, and on the other side I found a room lined with cages. Many held dogs, sleeping with grumpy expressions on their tired faces. Some held cats who stared out of their prisons with frightful intensity. “The problem animals,” the woman explained, “But we won’t have a problem with Big Geoff here, will we?”

I told her they wouldn’t, and she led me off to a connecting room, one teeming with cats. In the middle stood a towering playhouse, with many platforms and holes for hiding. One small cat poked its head out of the top compartment, watching all that passed by with wide, hunting eyes. Many chased each other along the paths. Some sat with their legs stretched out and licked themselves contentedly. It thrilled me to see that Big Geoff would have so many friends.

I set his container down and opened it up. “Alright, baby,” I said. “It’s time to say goodbye. See, this isn’t such a bad place, is it?”

He wouldn’t come out.

“Come on, silly,” I said, bending down to look in at him. He stared back at me, all panic, his pupils dilated despite the bright fluorescents of the room. I picked up the cat carrier and dumped him on the floor. He hit the ground and immediately he scrambled and cried, then jumped up onto my shoulder. He leaned his body into my face and shook, but he didn’t purr. I peeled him off, his claws taking some of my skin with them, and held him out in front of me.

“You be good,” I said, watching him gaze back at me, limp and helpless in my hands. “I’ll miss you.”

I set him down on the floor and made for the door. As soon as it was shut behind me, I heard a thump, and turned to see him clinging to the window at the top, his wild moon eyes looking out at me, pleading. I almost cried then, but I didn’t. I waved goodbye, and I drove to work.

At the front desk, Ginny smiled at me as usual; but the longer she looked, the less confident the smile seemed. “You alright, Angie?” she asked.

I grinned back with effortless grace. “Never been better.”

She looked me up and down, admiring my dress with a furrowed brow. “I love the dress,” she said. “But I think it might be against code?”

“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”

She was calling somebody as I walked away. I went directly to 324, Jack’s room, and knocked on the door three times.

No answer.

I tried again.

Still no response.

“Housekeeping?” I shouted.

Nothing.

Footsteps, coming down the hall toward me. I thought it must be Jack, Probably he’d been away grabbing breakfast. No biggie, I thought. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see me.

When I turned to look, it wasn’t Jack. It was my boss, Marvin, with Ginny behind him.

“Angela!” he shouted. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”

“None of your business.” I said coolly. “I’m just trying to do my job.”

“I’ll have you know that it is my business!” His face was getting very red as he stormed up. “And you don’t even have your housekeeping cart! How could you possibly-”

He stopped a few feet in front of me, perspiring, the red in his face turning to white as he looked at me.

“Angie…” Ginny said. “I’m worried about you. You don’t look good.”

“What are you talking about?” I said. “I feel great, I-”

“Are you on drugs?” Marvin asked.

“What? No, I just, I’m here to see Jack. He’s staying in this room.”

“Oh, honey…” Ginny said. “Mr. Harris checked out this morning, a couple hours ago.”

I went quiet, processing.

“Angela,” Marvin said, the anger in his voice turning to concern. “You need to go home. Take a shower, brush your hair, put on something decent.”

“No,” I said. “You’re lying.”

“Why would we lie about this to you?” Marvin asked.

“Because you don’t want me to be happy.” I reached for the master key in my pocket, but my hand only touched the bare leg beneath my skirt. I realized I had forgotten to grab the keys from Ginny on my way in.

“That’s ludicrous,” Marvin said.

“Angie, we love you.” Ginny said. “You’ve been here for years. We’d never lie to you.”

“Open the door.”

“There’s no reason-” Marvin started, but I interrupted him.

“If you love me, and you want me to be happy, then open the door.”

They exchanged a nervous glance, then Ginny sighed and started fumbling in her pockets. “I think I have the key here somewhere.”

Marvin looked at me. “Once you look inside and see what you need to see, you’re going home. We can’t have you working like this, Angela. I’m sorry.”

I said nothing, only waited. Eventually Ginny found the right key and opened the door.

The room was empty.

I screamed, almost cried, then remembered myself. Happy, I thought. Happy and confident. Cool.

I regained my composure and turned to look at them. They both had pained expressions on their faces.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They were still talking as I walked away, but I don’t know what they said. I got to my car in a hurry, then pulled out my phone and checked Facebook for Jack. His profile was gone. I stared over my steering wheel at the brick wall in front of me, and stayed that way for I don’t know how long, just thinking.

After some time, Ginny knocked on my car window, looking down at me with a saccharine smile.

I rolled it down. “What do you want?”

Her smile faded a bit, but she regained it before she spoke. “I was just getting off work, saw you still sitting here. I figured I’d check on you.”

“I’m okay,” I said, and started to roll my window up.

“Wait!” she said, then pulled out a little piece of paper and started scribbling on it. “Wait, I just. It seems like you’re having a hard time, and I wanted to let you know I’m here if you need me. This is my number. Call or shoot me a message anytime, okay? We could go see a movie, walk in the park, anything.”

She handed the paper to me and I smiled a little, despite myself. “That sounds nice,” I said. “But you really shouldn’t be worried. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, then.” She took a step back, the smile gone from her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I said, then started my engine and pulled out. She waved as I left. I didn’t wave back.

& & &

A little while later, I pulled into the animal shelter.

“I’m here to get Geoff back,” I said to the lady behind the desk.

She looked surprised. “But…I thought…what about your boyfriend, the one who’s allergic?”

“We broke up. Or, I broke up with him. It wasn’t working out. Too clingy.”

She frowned. “Well, I’m sorry hon, but Geoff isn’t here anymore. When you left, he was having a hard time adjusting, so we put him in one of the cages. A family came by, and the kids, they saw whimpering in that cage and I guess they felt bad for him. I adopted him out just a little while ago…”

My body tensed up, and I felt anger and panic rising within me. I stamped them down. “What was their address?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where did they live?”

“Oh, honey, I can’t tell you that. They already paid and everything. Legally, the cat’s theirs.”

“He was my cat.”

“Sweetie…”

“What were their names?”

“I think it’d be best if you went home. You can come back when you’ve cooled off, and maybe we can find another cat for you to adopt.”

“I hate you.”

Finally all the pleasant concern left her face. “Please leave the building,” she said. “And I won’t ask nicely again.”

I stood there for a few seconds, clenching my fists and staring at her, like I was pulling all the anger from my body and shooting it out through my eyes.

I took a deep breath. Happy, I thought.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

We looked at each other in silence for a few seconds longer, then her gaze dropped and she made herself busy shifting papers around on her desk. “It’s alright,” she said. “Now, if that’s all, I have some business to take care of. Please have a nice rest of your day.”

“I will,” I said, then left the building.

Later, I pulled into my apartment parking lot, my passenger seat full with trash bags and cleaning supplies I’d bought on the way home. Looking over, I thought about how long it had been since I’d seen another person in that seat. I sighed, then got to work.

First, I opened up every cabinet, every drawer, and threw everything they contained into garbage bags. Then I swept out the mouse droppings, the roach leavings, and I scrubbed the surfaces with Lysol. I cleaned the toilet, sinks, counters, and shower; knocked the cobwebs off the walls, and finished cleaning the windows. Suddenly the apartment seemed full of light, the sunlight outside no longer obscured behind a decade of smudges and streaks, and I could see with a new, horrible clarity the years of mess that had accumulated on the floor. I started with the trash – the fast food bags and paper plates, thinking that once all that was gone it would be easy to sort out what possessions I valued enough to keep. I soon realized I valued none of it. I threw away clothes, old phones, old notebooks and scratched DVDs, Big Geoff’s food bowls, his litter box. Somewhere at the bottom of the pile I found a picture of me and Amelia, ten years younger, with bright, unburdened smiles on our faces. I snapped it in half before I threw it away.

Once all was said and done, and my apartment looked as empty and bare as though I had just moved in, I had filled upwards of twenty trash bags. It was tough fitting them all in my car, but I managed to squeeze, and I drove it all out to the bridge that runs over the lake. I pulled my car off to the side of the road and started chucking the trash over the railing into the water. I watched each one on the way down; falling, falling, hitting the water then disappearing, leaving behind only the reflective gray-blue glimmer of the lake’s surface. Fresh and clean, I thought. Fresh and clean.

I was finished, about to get back in the car, when I remembered my dress. I pulled it off and held it over the edge, then let go and watched it slowly drift down towards the water. When it touched down, it didn’t sink, just floated there on the surface. I stood on the side of the road, disrobed, watching the dress move slowly with the currents of the water until it disappeared beneath the bridge. Then, I got back in my car, and I drove home. After I pulled into my normal parking spot, I called Ginny.

She answered after one ring. “Hello?”

“Hi, Ginny, it’s Angela.”

“Oh, hey! What’s going on, is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Everything’s great. I just…I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go on a walk tonight, like you said. Honestly, I could use the company.”

“Absolutely!” she exclaimed. “Absolutely, Angie. I’m so glad you called, I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “Does around seven work for you? We could meet at the trails by the lake.”

“That sounds great!”

“And one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

I looked down at my naked body, covered in grime and sweat from the cleaning, sticking slightly to the car’s faded brown interior. “Could you maybe bring some clothes with you?” I asked. “I seem to have misplaced all of mine.”

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Lindsey Betty 2025