Save Me (The Me Novellas) (4 page)

I wrestled the bookcase into the back seat of the woman’s car and managed to get the other one in, too. She offered me a grateful smile and I gave her a resigned one in return. It wasn’t her fault my mother was an idiot.

I slammed the hatch of her minivan and crossed the front lawn, winding my way to the back entrance of the house. My apartment.

I hadn’t started packing and I had less than five days to get everything moved. The new tenants had come by last night, after my break-up with Ben. I wanted to sit and mope on my couch but instead, I was shoved into tour guide role, walking around my 1100 square-foot space with an elderly Hmong woman who would be living there with her son and his family above. She shuffled along behind me, her shoulders bent, a polite smile etched into her features as I showed her the bedroom and bathroom. I was pretty sure she hadn’t understood a word I’d said.

Dani and I had talked about storage issues over breakfast. Or rather, the fact that storage space was nonexistent in their apartment. I wasn’t going to be bringing much of anything if I was going to be living with her. So, I’d called Storage City and reserved a unit there. And gasped out loud when they quoted the monthly fee. My check from Once Upon A Time would barely cover the rental. The reality of the situation was hitting full force. No money. No job. No house. Oh, and I was supposed to be graduating in three weeks. Somehow, I had to study for finals and write three term papers. In all my spare time.

I bit my lip and surveyed the contents of my apartment. It wouldn’t be hard to pack up. I knew that. I had stuff, but it wasn’t like my parent’s house. My mom’s habit of collecting and acquiring things had thankfully skipped me. No knick knacks, no collections—well, except my books. But, I was an English major. I was supposed to have a vast library at my fingertips. Even if most of them were cheap romance and mystery novels.

No, the packing wouldn’t be a problem. It was the moving I wasn’t looking forward to. I knew Dani and Ron would help if I asked them, but I didn’t want to. I already felt like I was imposing on them by moving in. How could I possibly ask them to help me move my crap into a storage unit, too? Plus, I wasn’t sure Ron could be away from the bathroom for extended periods of time.

There was a knock on my door, the interior door between my level and my parents.

“
What?” I didn’t bother to hide the irritation in my voice.

My dad poked his head through the open door. “I picked up some boxes for packing. Turns out your mother has sold all of our belongings and we don’t need any. Would you like them?”

Nothing says I love you like moving boxes. “Sure.”

He pushed the door open, his arms cradling a mountain of flattened boxes. He set them vertically against the wall where they hovered for a moment before sliding into a haphazard pile on the floor. He stopped to straighten them.

“
Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m gonna start packing tonight. You know, since I have to be out of here in five days.”

He looked at me. “You’re upset.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee. Why would you think that? I mean, it’s not like you’re kicking me out of my house and leaving before you can see me graduate from college.”

“
You’re not even walking,” he said. “You opted out of the ceremony. What is there to see?”

He had me there. Ceremonies were ridiculous and the last thing I wanted after suffering through four years of college was one last reminder of it.

But I tried. “I don’t know. Maybe we could have gone out to dinner. Gotten take-out. Done something to celebrate.”

“
So let’s celebrate now. Tonight. Before we leave.”

“
I have to pack,” I said. “And then move it all into a storage unit.”

“
A storage unit? Why?”

“
Because I’m moving in with Dani, Dad.” I rolled my eyes. “What did you think I was going to do? Buy a house?”

“
But
…
” He thought for a minute. “You have a job. You’ll be graduating and getting a real job. Why are you moving in with her?”

Dani was not my father’s favorite person. I could never figure out why. But he was missing the larger point.

“
I seriously think you must be living on a foreign planet,” I said. “Or at least in a different economic stratosphere. Let me spell it out for you. I work
part-time at a bookstore
. I make seven dollars an hour. That is not enough for rent. Just FYI.”

“
You have no savings?”

“
I’d need to have money to have a savings account. Wouldn’t I? Hello, seven dollars an hour?”

He folded his arms across his chest, his uni-brow arching like a caterpillar. “This is disturbing.”

I raised my own eyebrows and nodded. “Why, yes. Yes, it is.”

He sighed. “I had no idea you’d been so irresponsible with your spending.”

I gasped and started to object but he continued.

“
I guess it’s my fault,” he muttered, almost as if he was talking to himself. “I spent thirty years helping people manage their money. Why couldn’t I teach my own daughter the same skills?”

He was missing the point altogether. To manage money, I would need to
have
money.

He cleared his throat. “How much do you need?”

I stared at him. “What?”

“
Money. How much do you need to help make ends meet? We’re not talking about forever,” he said quickly. “And I’d like to think of this as a loan. Until you get on your feet.”

I wanted it. The help. I wanted it desperately. And I was pretty sure I was going to need it.

“
No, thanks,” I said.

If I’d had a conjoined twin, I was pretty sure she would have slapped her hand over my mouth to shut me up.

“
No?” The caterpillar eyebrow arched its back like an inchworm. “You sure?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want handouts. I didn’t want help. Not even from the two people who cared about me the most. I’d make it on my own and the sooner I started operating under that idea, the better off I’d be.

But I knew there was one thing they could help me with.

I smiled at him. “Daddy, do you know where Storage City is?”

FIVE

I had no place to sit. Or stand, really.

I looked around the spare bedroom in Dani’s apartment, the spare bedroom that was now mine.

“
It’s still a little bit of a mess,” Dani said as she helped me bring in my bags. I had two suitcases stuffed with clothes, a backpack of toiletries and two boxes of books for my last few classes.

A little bit of a mess was a massive understatement. The crates of records were pushed up against one wall of the bedroom. But they were stacked five feet high and three feet deep. The newspapers had been picked up off the floor and stuffed into paper grocery bags. These lined the other wall. There was a desk pushed up against the wall with the closet. At least I thought it was a desk. It was buried under stacks of bills, magazines and coupon flyers.

I tripped over a cat as I made my way toward the bed.

“
Jemima.” Dani scolded the calico cat and scooped her up. “Sorry. This has kind of been her room for a while. We’ll try to keep her out of here.”

“
It’s fine,” I said. I glanced at the cat . She watched me with narrowed green eyes, her tail swishing like a fly swatter. I imagined she must feel a lot like I did at that moment. Completely displaced.

“
So, what do you think?” Dani asked, smiling. “This will work, right?”

“
Yes. Absolutely,” I said. “Um, but what about the stuff on the bed?”

The bed, a twin frame with a blue bedspread, was covered with boxes. Tiny ones, like the size of a package of checks.

“
Oh, those are Ron’s. I think bike parts.”

“
Bike parts?” I wondered if he repaired bikes for midgets.

“
Yeah, like bolts and plugs and things.” She leaned into the hallway. “Ron! Come in here.”

He appeared a minute later, a toothpick lodged in place between his lips. A day’s worth of stubble covered his cheeks.

“
Any chance we can move these boxes?” Dani asked.

“
To where?” He leaned against the doorframe. He was already dressed for work—white t-shirt, stained and faded jeans. Or maybe that was just what he always wore. I couldn’t be sure.

“
Well, somewhere where Katie isn’t sleeping
…
”

He glanced at me, a smile slithering across his face. I flinched.

“
Oh, yeah. That’s right.” He looked me over. “How’s it goin’?”

“
Fine,” I said. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

He jerked his head in Dani’s direction. “It was her idea.”

Duh. But I forced a smile. “Well, yeah. But you had to agree. So, thank you.”

“
Actually,” he began but Dani silenced him with a look. “Yeah. Right.” He crossed the room in two quick strides and gathered the boxes, stacking them into a tower. “I guess I’ll get these out of here.”

He balanced the stack of boxes and left, shifting his toothpick from side to side as he walked.

I set my backpack on the bed and sat down. The mattress groaned and I was pretty sure I felt metal coils digging into my backside. It felt surreal, sitting in Dani’s spare bedroom, knowing it was the place I would be living for the foreseeable future. It also felt as uncomfortable as hell.

My parents had left for Florida the previous night. After my dad helped move my stuff from the house—he’d caved—and after the transfer of keys to the Hmong family. The old lady and her family were moving in today.

And I’d moved out.

“
I’m sure you want to get settled,” Dani said, still snuggling the cat. “And I need to get ready for work.”

“
Where today?”

She made a face. “A dental office. Data entry. Gag.”

I nodded. “At least it’s a paycheck.” From what she told me, she made pretty decent money. And she could choose which jobs she wanted to take, when she wanted to work.

“
I know, I know.” She sighed. “It’s really not so bad. I just hate the smell of dentists.”

I chuckled.

She turned to me. “You know, you should apply with A+ Temps.”

I shook my head. “No. No way.” I reached for one of my suitcases and unzipped it. She’d managed to clear a miniscule space in the closet and I wanted to get some clothes put away.

“
Why not? You could totally do it. And be working full time as soon as you graduate.”

“
I have no skills,” I said. “I couldn’t do data entry to save my life.”

“
You do too have skills.”

I stared at her, a handful of t-shirts ready to hang. “Do you remember typing class?”

She nodded.

“
Do you remember who failed typing class?”

“
You didn’t technically fail,” she pointed out. “You dropped out.”

“
Yeah. Before Mrs. Simmons could give me an F.”

I was pretty sure I was the only student in the history of our high school to fail out of typing. I’d learned how to type early on, when I was like seven, with only three fingers—my middle finger on my left hand and middle and pointer finger on my right—and I couldn’t break the habit, no matter how hard I tried.

And even though I was accurate, mostly, and fast, sort of—Mrs. Simmons continually gave me low grades. All because I wouldn’t use all ten fingers.

“
Anyway,” Dani said, brushing aside my concerns. “You don’t have to be a super fast typist. You go in and take a few different tests. Placement tests. And then they figure out if they have jobs for you.”

“
Hmm.” I hung a shirt on one of the few empty hangers. “Maybe.” I couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of job a three-fingered typist might get through A+ Temps. But I was going to need money, which meant needing work, which might mean typing professionally with three fingers.

“
It’s a job,” she said, stroking the cat. “You’ll be making money.”

“
Maybe after I graduate,” I said.

I would look into it, I told myself. But not until then. Because at that moment, I had books to finish reading and papers to write and the last thing I could think about was finding a job. Even though it was my absolute biggest concern.

“
Good!” She beamed. “I can set up the appointment with Tanya. She does all the placement tests. She’s great.”

She flounced out of the room, the cat still nestled in her arms. I heard the shower turn on, heard Ron rustling around in the kitchen, banging cupboard doors. Then, a few minutes later, banging on the bathroom door.