1. Kaia

The walk up to my apartment is a long one. I’m not sure how this building has gotten away with not making this place ADA compliant, but an elevator would be a godsend right about now. Or even one of those chair lifts that take five years to go five flights. I don’t care, just let me stop lifting my legs over and over again as I trudge up the seven flights of stairs to my little studio.

The carpet beneath my feet looks like it used to be a bright maroon with a gold pattern, no doubt to match the overall Victorian aesthetic of the place. But it has to be over twenty-five years old, the dirty foot traffic turning it black in spots and worn through in others.

Because everyone has to use them every time we want to go somewhere.

Today sucked. I was laid off from my job, which means almost certain doom in a city this large. Rent is out of control, and if I can’t get another job within the month, I’ll be homeless. I have one month’s rent plus enough for groceries in my savings account, but other than that, I have nothing. I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck ever since I moved to Seattle, so this turn of events was not a happy one.

I shove the key in the lock with more force than is really necessary, and the knob rattles and then opens. The apartment smells warm and inviting. It’s my favorite time of year: Autumn. Ever since September first, my whole place has been decorated with colorful garlands and pumpkins, and the candle warmer on my kitchen counter has been filling the space with the scent of apple, cinnamon, and maple. After a long walk home in the rain, it’s a welcome respite.

I’ve tried to make this place as cozy as I could, with soft blankets and low lighting. It’s not a lot to look at, but it’s the best I could do on my budget. And coming home every day from a job I don’t necessarily like has been made a bit better by the little touches.

I throw all my stuff onto my kitchen counter and then turn the TV onto the first Halloween movie I can find. Halloweentown is playing on Disney, and I let it play as I run a bath. The way my apartment is set up, because it’s so small, I can see the TV from my bathtub if I leave the door open. And nothing sounds better to me right now than a bath, a glass of wine, and some wholesome Halloween entertainment.

I wish I lived in a space that got trick-or-treaters, but no kid, no matter how athletic, is climbing all those stairs just for a piece of chocolate. The last few Halloweens have been spent just like this, and I can’t help but feel the pang of loneliness. I wish I had friends to dress up and go out with or a partner to cuddle up with while Scream played in the background.

And even more, I wish the prospect of dressing up a child of my own wasn’t such a far-reaching thought. Ever since I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a mom. I was the kid that brought her baby doll and stroller for it everywhere we went. I would make pretend formula and change dry diapers. But the older I got, the more I realized just how hard it is out there… in the dating world.

High school and college were fine. I had some boyfriends and girlfriends here and there, but never really anything serious. I always ended up getting annoyed. Annoyed that they were in my space. Annoyed they wanted to move slower than I did — yes, I’m probably a little more eager than most people when it comes to romance. Not that I necessarily want to jump right into bed with them, but I’m so eager for love that I tend to jump in with both feet far too quickly. I’m the queen of scaring people off.

But after college, I moved to Seattle, and my social life just kind of… halted. I grew up about two hours from here, in a little seaside town. I have no family to speak of anymore, so I moved away, hoping that a big city would bring big job opportunities. I studied to be a teacher, and I was thrilled when I accepted the position at an elementary school. It was just as a teacher’s aide, but I thought maybe I could get some experience and then get an actual teaching job in a couple of years.

Unfortunately, all the move brought was crippling debt and a job that barely paid a living wage.

Everyone at my workplace is — well, was now, I guess — either old or stuck-up. It was a charter school, where the city’s best and brightest wanted to go. The teachers were tenured, established, and bitchy. They didn’t want anything to do with a fresh-out-of-college twenty-something-year-old. And I tried the dating apps. Who hasn’t? But every date was awkward or a no-show. Eventually, I stopped trying. And now, I’ve been here for two years without a single friend to show for it.

Maybe it’s time I moved home. Not that it’s home anymore. That stopped being my home the minute my mom died.

The loud interruption of a commercial pulls me out of my depressing thoughts and back into the moment. I turn the water on, making it as hot as I can stand before throwing in some Epsom salts for my poor legs and a relaxing vanilla bubble bath. Steam rises as the tub fills, and I strip off my damp clothes from the day.

Washington state is fucking cold and always rainy. Sure, the trees are beautiful in the fall, with vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows. But the rain is too much, even for me. Just give me one day of sunshine, I think. Just one to brighten my mood.

I take a second to look at myself in the mirror. I’m pale, with yellow-blonde hair that hangs in wet strings around my shoulders. My eyes are a bit hollow-looking from lack of sleep. My neighbors above aren’t quiet… ever. Even now, I can hear them stomping around up there. My breasts are good, though. A nice shape for a plus-sized body. My eyes scan my stomach, purposefully skipping over the faded stretch marks that connect from hip to hip. It’s been a long while since anyone has seen me naked, and I’m thankful for that as I pick myself apart for a few more minutes until the tub is full.

Turning away from the mirror, I turn off the bathroom light and turn on the small neon light that hangs on the wall. It’s shaped like a cauldron, with a green backlight that casts an eerie glow over the bathroom floor and walls. I slowly step into the bath, letting my skin adjust to the sharp tingles of the hot water. My pale skin immediately flushes pink, then red, as the hot water scorches away any feeling. The Epsom salts work to relieve my sore muscles, and the warm scent of vanilla relaxes my mind.

The water laps at the edges of the bath as I sit down and then lean back, letting the hot water reach my collarbones. I take several deep breaths, willing myself to look on the bright side of things. There has to be something good happening in my life. Something I can look forward to. When my brain comes up empty, I groan and sink all the way down into the water, wishing I could just disappear.