Bliss (9 page)

Maya developed several businesses, Lundy Events being the last and most successful. It was the go-to outfit for promoting and launching new restaurant ventures in downtown Vancouver. Their current project was Maya's baby, from inception to installation, called First @ Second, a weekend food festival on Second Beach. If all went well, next year's festival would be called Second @ Second, and so on until eternity, if Maya got her wish. They'd been working on it for months, and had only another few weeks to go. Maya had to do most of the heavy lifting last week, with Demi's apartment search and move, her post-breakup malaise, and her constant hangover. Thank god for Maya, but Demi knew the ice was getting thin. It was only a matter of time before Maya cracked and Demi sank.

“You look better than you must feel,” said Maya correctly after she hung up the phone. She was out with Demi and her friends last night, but left after one drink, hours before things got weird.

“Don't expect much from me today. I think I have to cut out early again. Just some stuff to take care of.” Demi didn't really have anything urgent, other than the need to nap, and to bake some apology muffins for her neighbors. They hosed her vomit. It was the least she could do.

Maya wasn't having it. “I need a full day, Demi. Crunch time. You can either do the phones or deal with the alcohol permit. If we don't get it sorted out ASAP, we're screwed.”

A food festival without beer was like Christmas without presents. Given the choice between schmoozing forty people on the phone, each with a complaint, or going to City Hall to stand in a long line, Demi would have to take … god, both sounded awful. She liked Maya, and she was pretty good at organization, but she didn't feel anything close to passion for this job. It was something to do until the blurry big picture came into focus. Maya's enthusiasm was usually contagious, but it wasn't spreading today.

“Did I tell you, I figured out that the whole time James said he was in Chicago last May he was really in Miami? I checked the credit card records.” In her nonwork, nonblotto hours, Demi had become obsessed with logging into their Visa account and comparing past statements with her calendars. It was all there. Each statement was proof of his lies. If only she'd looked at their financials sooner. In her years with James, she'd never once checked. James handled all the bills.

“Yeah, James is a prick, was always a prick, and will continue to be one for as long as he slimes his way across North America. You should have known. You were an idiot, yes, we agree.”

Demi said, “I sense … annoyance.”

Maya laughed. “I'm not
annoyed
. I'm freaking out! As soon as First @ Second is over, I want to hear every despicable James story you've got. But until then, we have shit to do.”

“I just sat down. Let me have one cup of coffee first, okay? Then I'm off to City Hall. Just half a cup.”

“A Demi?” asked Maya. Two phones rang at once, and she was off to the races. Her day would continue like this for another twelve hours.

Demi filled a mug, and scrolled through her work emails. Seventy-eight messages, most of them marked Urgent, re: First @ Second. One address popped out at her. The email was from Mrs. Rydell, the building manager who showed her the apartment at the Grace. The message had an attachment—her signed and executed lease.

She called Mrs. Rydell, who picked up on the first ring. “Hello, Demi. Did you get the lease?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Do you
love
the place?”

“I like it. But I couldn't help noticing, everyone there is really old.”

Mrs. Rydell was such a fast talker when she was walking her through the place. Now, she took a pause. “I told you the residents were mature.”

“By
mature
, I thought you meant
employed
.”

“More like
retired
.”

“Did someone die in my apartment?”

“People die everywhere.”

“The lease is signed. I can't get out of it now. Just tell me the truth.”

Another pause. “The apartment's quirky history is why it's so affordable.”

“How quirky?”

“All I know is that the deaths were from natural causes, like heart attacks and strokes. It's just a coincidence that they happened in the same apartment.”

Demi choked on her coffee. “Deaths, plural? How many?”

“Four?”

“You rented me a death trap!”

“The place is completely safe. It's been checked and rechecked. The water is clean. No mold, bugs, toxins, or rodents. The elderly are very good neighbors. No loud music, they go to bed early, and keep the place spotless. If you have some kind of prejudice against old people, then you can always break the lease. But you'll forfeit the security deposit and your first month's rent.”

Demi was too hungover to be angry. It
was
a large apartment in an immaculate building and a great location. She didn't hate old people. It was just a bit disconcerting to be the youngest person in the building by fifty years. She put her head down on her desk, and tried to picture Miriam and the gang of ghosts who might be lurking in her bathroom. Friendly ghosts, she was sure, and not necessarily a bad thing. Demi could stand to meet some new people.

She might've dozed a bit, because the next thing she knew, Maya was shaking her shoulder. “I'm up!” she said, and busily tidied her desk like a kid caught snoozing through history class. “I was just resting my eyes.”

Maya was not amused. “Permit?” she said.

“Going.” Demi grabbed her bag, left the office, and got in the Audi. It made some suspicious grinding noises, but she ignored them. Should she even be driving this hungover? She drove last night. How could she have done that?
Never again, you idiot!
She went down to City Hall, parked, and found the right room in the labyrinth of offices, only to find out that the clerk was out to lunch until two
P.M.
, an hour from now. She texted Maya and said, “Office closed until after lunch. Will go back then. Running errands.”

Demi made the snap decision do a quick food shop and then head back to the Grace. It was so close, and she could still smell pinot grigio coming out of her pores. She'd bake muffins, take another shower, then get the permit and be back at work with at least five minutes to spare before Maya's nervous breakdown.

*   *   *

The oven was as old as the average resident at the Grace, so Demi wasn't optimistic about baking there. Plus, she wasn't much of a baker at all. She followed the recipe and measured and mixed the ingredients carefully. The pumpkin spice muffin recipe was a James favorite. She'd perfected it over the years and was quite proud of it. She hoped her neighbors liked it. Who
didn't
like pumpkin? You'd have to be insane not to, a deranged, twisted psychopath. Bonus: It was packed with vitamins A and C, good news for the olds. Demi could use a double dose of antioxidants, too. She'd been treating her body like a garbage dump since the breakup.

Since the breakup.
Her life was now divided between “before the breakup” and “since the breakup.” James's betrayal defined her life, and probably would for a long time. She could sum up her existence to a new person, “Hi, my name is Demi Michaels. I'm twenty-one and have no clue what to do with my life. My boyfriend cheated on me for years. When I found out, I had to break up with him. I'm desperately lonely. I wish I could bury my head in the sand, and pretend I never caught him. But I did, and now I'm stuck with the anger, zero trust, a jaded perspective on love, an open invitation to AA, pity money, party friends, and no confidence.” Man, she was a real treat these days.

Demi poured the batter into the muffin pans, and put them in the oven. While they baked, she showered again, changed her clothes, and cleaned up her space. The light was fantastic at this time of day. It gave her a freshly scrubbed, clean feeling.

Speaking of which, she had a mountain of laundry to do. While the muffins cooled on a rack, she took a duffel bag down to the basement to the washer-dryer room, no quarters required. She stuffed two of the washers, one with whites, one with coloreds, set the dials, and started them off.

As she was leaving the room, Yoga Pants came in, lugging a basket of her own dirty drawers. When she noticed both machines were running, she said, “Both yours?” and pointed at the two churning washing machines. “House rules: You're not supposed to take two at a time.”

I can't do anything right
, she thought. “I'll take my stuff out if you want.”

“No, forget it.”

“Just leave your stuff. I'll put it in when mine's done. I'll even fold. It's the least I can do after this morning.”

“Are you feeling better?” The woman placed her basket on top of one of the washers.

“Much, except for the abject humiliation.”

Yoga Pants smiled. “You certainly gave us something to talk about.”

“I'm Demi, by the way."

“Catherine.” They shook hands.

“I'm never tangling with shrubs again. I'm never drinking again. It was a one-time thing. I've learned my lesson.”

Catherine said, “Bullshit!” Whoa, Demi's grandmother never cursed like that.

“You're right. I am going to drink again.”

“You can come upstairs and have a sip right now, if you'd like. I put some Bailey's in my coffee at this time of day.”

Be neighborly! “Um, sure. Sounds great.”

They took the stairs together. Catherine zoomed up the stairs, shockingly. “I do yoga five days a week.”

“You're in better shape than I am.”

“Considering the shape you were in this morning…”

What a sassy old bird! They got to the second floor. “Here you are,” said Catherine. “I'm right across the hall.”

It was after two
P.M.
Demi really should go back to City Hall, but she couldn't very well abandon the laundry and turn down her neighbor's hospitality after accepting it. That would be rude and make a bad second impression. She'd have one coffee, transfer the wash into the dryer, then run back to City Hall and get the permit. She'd deliver it to Maya, and then race home and fold.

They got to their floor, and Catherine said, “I'll get the bottle. We can christen your place.”

As she opened her door, Demi warned, “I don't have anywhere to sit, but you do yoga, right?” They both smiled. Demi felt better already.

When they were settled on boxes in Demi's apartment, she had to ask, “Were you and Miriam friends? I know about the portal of doom, by the way.”

Catherine laughed. “We call your apartment ‘God's Waiting Room.'”

“God's going to have to wait a long time for me.”

“Don't curse yourself.”

“Okay, okay. I'm going to die tomorrow. Is that better?”

Catherine liked her little joke, and gave Demi the brightest smile she'd seen in weeks. It was like sunshine and lemonade, and warmed Demi inside out.

“Something smells really good,” said Catherine.

“My muffins. I baked them for you, for all of you, to say ‘thanks' and ‘sorry' for this morning.” Demi dashed around the kitchen to put a hot cake on a plate.

Catherine took a bite, made yummy sounds, and asked, “Who doesn't love pumpkin? You'd have to be insane not to. Only serial killers don't love pumpkin.”

“I couldn't agree more,” said Demi as they clinked their coffees and took another bite.

 

demi's pumpkin spice raisin and walnut muffins

MAKES 12 MUFFINS

ingredients

3 cups gluten-free baking flour

2 tsps baking powder

2 tsps baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 tbsp ground cinnamon

1 tbsp ground ginger

¼ tsp allspice

¼ tsp ground nutmeg

4 eggs

²
⁄
₃
cup applesauce

¹
⁄
₃
cup maple syrup

²
⁄
₃
cup almond milk

2 tbsps vanilla extract

one can pumpkin puree

½ cup chopped walnuts

1 cup golden raisins

instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a standard 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, allspice, and nutmeg.

3. Add the 4 eggs, applesauce, maple syrup, almond milk, and vanilla directly to the dry ingredients. Stir until the batter is smooth and thick. Using a plastic spatula, fold in the pumpkin, walnuts, and raisins until all are evenly distributed throughout the batter.

4. Pour the batter into each prepared cup ¾ full. Bake the muffins on the center rack for 25 minutes, rotating the tin 180 degrees halfway through. The finished muffins will be soft to the touch, and a toothpick inserted in the center will come out clean.

5. Let the muffins stand in the tin for 15 minutes, then transfer them to a wire rack and cool completely. Store the muffins in an airtight container at room temperature for up to three days.

 

5

rock that invisible tiara!

A month post-breakup, Sophia studied Demi carefully on her laptop screen, checking her face for blotches and bloat, and her psyche for cracks. The breakup had taken a toll, although today she seemed okay. Better. “Any bootie texts from James yet?” asked Sophia.

“If only! He'd be shocked if I showed up at his place … with a chain saw.”

“What's the feelings update?” Sophia asked, hoping Demi would keep it brief. Not to offend her or be rude, but she loathed James and was so glad that was over. But she understood the pain her friend was in. When Jesse broke up with her—totally out of the blue, just announced one day that he wanted out—she was shellshocked. But after a month of daily emotional check-ins with Demi, Sophia was suffering from chronic sympathy fatigue, and was ready to be done with it.