Chapter 5

5

L IZ

Thursday

"This is the last one," I say as the real estate agent pushes the door open and invites me in.

"The last one in your budget, yes."

She's far from being sarcastic.

She's just working with what I have budgeted for my new place.

I can't go over a certain figure, or I'll need to reconsider living with Terry for the foreseeable future.

Every person I talked to said it was a bad idea for me to start living on my own in this economy, especially with my scarce resources.

I didn't argue with them.

I knew that as well.

I walk in.

It's an old house that nobody has occupied in a while.

However, the owners have made some upgrades and turned it into a rental, and it's quite cozy.

It's small—tiny, I should say. And it doesn't allow pets, which doesn't sit well with me—not because I have a pet but because I'd love to have that option.

The open layout makes it look like a studio, and I like that, although it's far from what I had in mind.

I would've liked a creative space in a studio above a cafe on a busy street.

The house is minutes away from the coffee shop where I spend my weekends, allegedly writing, and that's a plus.

It's a fifteen-minute walk, to be exact, which is great.

The coffee shop is in a small plaza, where I can buy groceries, eat Chinese or Italian, and purchase home goods when necessary.

It's not bad.

A ten-minute drive, and I'm downtown, where everything happens. The park, coffeehouses, restaurants, bakeries, and boutiques are all there.

I could have the best of both worlds.

It's a bit far from the campus, but my school is far from my mother's place as well, so it's practically the same thing.

The woman walks around the space, talking, while I try to envision myself living here. The small kitchen table only has two chairs and is tucked next to the window.

The woman gives me a brief history of the place as if that piece of information could make it more attractive.

It's not a bad place. And it's not a great place either.

The windows are small, the ceiling is rather low, and the wooden floors creak. But it's clean, and the walls are freshly painted, which helps.

I could decorate it with curtains, plants, and fairy lights. To my left, a large sofa leans against the wall while a door opens into a small bedroom in the back.

The bedroom's furniture includes a queen-size bed, a chest drawer, and a chair.

The walk-in closet has a few shelves and enough space to turn around without getting stuck.

"I'll take it… This is it," I say, smiling.

The woman looks at me, surprised.

It's the fourth place I've seen today, and I feel good about it.

I'm also very much aware it's difficult to find the perfect place when money is an issue.

"Are you sure?"

Our eyes meet.

"Yes."

Honestly, the cafe around the corner has tipped the scale. If I remember correctly, there's a gym not far from there, and they're offering a special deal this month.

It's a good neighborhood, close to almost everything I need. I can walk, jog, go to the gym, buy stuff, and eat in the same area.

Maggie's boutique is a twenty-minute drive, the campus about half an hour from here by car, and everything else… Well, I rarely visit it.

"Good. I'll let the owners know. How soon can you move in?"

"I could pack up my things and move in tomorrow."

A smile stretches across her lips.

"Fantastic. I'll have the lease agreement ready for you. We can meet tomorrow in the afternoon."

"Sounds good to me."

We exit the bedroom when she tips her gaze to the side.

"Would you like to see the back porch?"

"There's a porch?"

She flashes a grin again.

"Yes, there is."

I follow her to the door that opens to the backyard.

Although relatively small, the porch has a great view and big trees that hide from prying eyes.

I could actually sit in the rocking chair and write here. How cool would that be?

Her phone rings, and she excuses herself and walks into the house to take the call.

I sit on the rocker chair and lean back, contemplating everything.

I like this—I really do. I slide a hand into my backpack, remove my cell phone, and text Chloe.

Me: I have a new place.

She doesn't answer––not that I expect her to––so I text my mother.

She calls right away, happy to hear the news. We chat for a little while before Chloe calls me and the real estate agent returns.

I end the conversation with my mother, text Chloe back instead of answering her call, and focus on the woman.

LIZ

An hour later

Maggie's Boutique

"I am so happy for you," Chloe says for the umpteenth time. "What about this?"

She pulls a hanger from the rack and holds it up so I can check the mini dress.

"Do you think this cute little number is appropriate for a wedding party?"

She flicks her hand in response and puts it back.

"You already have a fancy gown. You need something sexy and comfortable."

"How is that comfortable?" I ask, picking up the hanger myself.

It's a strapless white dress with a rhinestone-studded belt.

"You like it?" Chloe asks, her hand gripping another hanger.

"It's all right."

"All right?"

"It's sexy, but I don't like the color," I say quietly."There's nothing wrong with it. It's just that I'm not the bride. Besides, it's too short."

She yanks it from my hand and holds it against my body, running her eyes over it.

"It's perfect. And it hits above the knee."

"It's more like mid-thigh. It's a bit too sexy," I say under my breath while Clarissa, my coworker who covers my shift today, approaches us.

"Did you find something that you like?"

Chloe turns to her and speaks first.

"Do you have this dress in a different color?"

Clarissa, a college student like me, pushes her eyes down and takes the hanger from Chloe.

"I'll go check," she says before swiveling and making a beeline for the back.

"Thank you," Chloe murmurs. "See," she says. "Things always work out in the end."

"Are you talking about the dress or something else?" I mumble, focusing on a cropped blouse with a big bow at the neckline and oversized sleeves.

"Everything. That would look good with a mini skirt. Or skintight pants."

"Why do you insist on sexing me up?"

She smiles facetiously.

"I want to cheer you up?" she says, removing a hanger from the rack.

She just found the skintight white mini skirt she wanted for me.

The blouse features a wild print in bright red, yellow, emerald green, and white.

"What's with you and white?" I ask, taking it from her, holding it against my thighs, and looking down.

"I need to hit the gym," I murmur.

"What makes you say that?" she asks, checking the clothing on the rack this time to buy something for herself.

I know Chloe.

She's never seen a flashy outfit she didn't like.

"The gym?" I murmur, focused on what she's pulling out for herself.

Mini skirts and cropped tops.

"Can we please not forget we're attending a fancy wedding?"

"There's a wedding ceremony, and there's a party. And there's the end of the party when people have alcohol in their blood."

"This is not that kind of party."

"You don't know that."

She pays me no mind as she drapes the things she selected for herself over her arm.

"These are not only for the wedding. I want to hit the clubs this weekend and get laid. There's no way I'm spending my time home sobbing."

I laugh.

She's never sobbing.

Smiling, she swings her eyes to me.

"What?" she says. "You should do the same. How long do you think we'll have these the way they are right now?"

Her index finger moves down, pointing to our bodies.

"I'm grateful for my body…" she says, focusing on her clothing selection again. "But I know there's a time limit on how long I can play with it, so this might be our best time to enjoy ourselves."

I listen to her in silence.

She finally moves away from the rack and turns to me.

"No?"

"I guess."

"All right," she says. "The girl brings your dress. I suggest you take it. I'll be in the fitting room. You can join me if you want to."

She paces away, heading straight to the back of the store while Clarissa nears me.

"Is everything okay with your friend?" she asks, noticing how quickly Chloe moves.

"Yes. That's how she rolls."

Clarissa shifts her eyes to me.

"I see."

Smiling, she dips her gaze.

"Here. I found it in red and pink. I think pink fits you best," she says, glancing at my hair. "This is for Thea's wedding, isn't it?"

I smile.

"Yes."

"Everybody knows about her wedding," she adds. "It's a small town."

I sigh.

"Indeed it is," I murmur.

She flashes a grin.

"All right. Let me know if you need anything else. I'll be at the counter."

I inch closer to the wall mirror as Clarissa walks away.

Within seconds, I drop the red dress on a chair. It's beautiful but not suitable for the occasion. The pink dress is like the one Thea delivered to my place––it's the same color, I mean.

The fabric is soft and has some give, most likely jersey. I'm sure it molds nicely on my body without clinging awkwardly to my hips.

I don't need to try it on to know that it fits.

Yet when I check the white mini skirt and colorful blouse, my heart sings a little. It's such an eye-catching duo, and it would look great on me.

I might also need to file for bankruptcy. These things are expensive.

Even with the generous employee discount, it can still set me back two hundred dollars.

That's a week's worth of groceries for me.

I don't need to try on the two pieces, either. I've been on so many shopping sprees with Chloe and spent so much time with her in fitting rooms trying on outfits that I know what works and what doesn't for my body shape.

These all work for me.

Filled with guilt, I grab all of them and sit on the chair.

Chloe finds me there moments later. I'm still seated, still pondering.

"So?"

She holds five outfits in her arms.

"Are you buying all of them?"

"Of course I do. Do you think I'm wasting my time for nothing? They all look good on me. So, are we buying something today or not?"

She's talking about me when she says we .

" We are thinking about it."

"Stop overthinking everything. I like that set," she says, looking at the skirt and the blouse. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Uh-huh."

She reads my eyes for a second before doing her version of the happy dance––twirling around and flapping mostly her elbows––and we both laugh.

"Haha. We're going clubbing this Saturday," she says, and I shush her.

"Be quiet. I'll be working Clarissa's shift on Saturday. And I'm trying to get off work early… to go clubbing you think?"

"Your boss can't hear us."

"No. But Clarissa can."

Chloe looks in her direction. My coworker is ringing up a client, so she has no idea we're talking about her.

"So, you don't work on Sunday," she murmurs.

"No, I don't."

"Perfect."

She does a more restrained version of a happy dance before bending over and hugging me.

"I'm so happy," she says, snapping upright. "I missed going out with you."

"I can't believe you can't find people in Madrid to go out with."

"There are people in Madrid, but it's not the same. Let's go, ring these items up. I'm hungry."