I gradually realized that Ethan didn’t need me as much anymore. Yet we still clung to each other, because change is terrifying and we had fallen into our roles a long time ago. Neither of us knew how to do anything different anymore.
But…
I pull up at my apartment and kill the engine. I sit there for a moment, staring sightlessly down at the steering wheel.
Lily is getting older. She’s ten. No, actually, she’ll be eleven in two months, won’t she? Before we know it, she’ll be a teenager, and then it’ll only be another short leap until she’s an adult. She’s grown into a beautiful, independent young girl, and she doesn’t need Ethan and me running around after her anymore.
So where does that leave Ethan and me? I try to answer that question, but I don’t really know how to. Ethan and I will always be best friends, of course. But now that Lily doesn’t need us in the way she used to, our relationship will inevitably change. In a few years, she won’t even need a babysitter anymore, so there won’t be any point in me going around to Ethan’s place a few times a week. If I continued doing that, it would be for Ethan’s sake, not for Lily’s.
But Ethan isn’t the one I need to be looking after. I helped him get on his feet and I helped raise Lily, to the point where I’m pretty much her surrogate mother, but that’s where the line is drawn. Any further, and I start acting like I’m Ethan’s girlfriend or wife.
And as much as I would like to have one of those titles, I have neither.
I open my car door and head into the apartment building. My apartment is on the fifth floor, which always amazes Lily when she comes to visit, since their house is all on ground level.
Pamela Affrey is leaving from the apartment next door to mine as I approach, and she looks up when I pull my keys out, caught by the jangling sound. Her face lights up.
“Georgia!” she says, grinning. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I say politely.
Pamela moved in several months ago. At first, I thought she was kind yet earnest, and she tried very hard to get to know me, which was flattering. Unfortunately, it’s been in the last month that I discovered that Pamela is also an incorrigible gossip; I told her about my feelings for Ethan and, before I knew it, the entire damn building knew. Now, whenever Ethan and Lily arrive, I get sympathetic or teasing smiles from my neighbors.
“I’m just heading out on a date,” Pamela gushes. She eyes me. “Have you been out with Ethan again?”
My smile turns strained.
“I’ve been at work,” I lie. “Excuse me, it’s been a long day, if you don’t mind…?”
/>
“Of course!” Pamela says. “Have a nice night!”
“You too,” I return, watching as she leaves and childishly making a face at her retreating back.
It was petty, but at least it made me feel a little better.
I step inside my apartment. I don’t spend a lot of time here, to be honest. I spend most of my days at Ethan’s place, as much as I hate to admit it, and any time I do spend here is usually to sleep or to stop and grab something. As such, my apartment always has a cold, impersonal feeling to it, as though it doesn’t actually have an owner. I flick the light switch on and head to the kitchen.
I’d planned on making a coffee, but I pause when I see there’s no kettle on the table. Where was….? Oh, that was right, the only one broke last week. But I thought I stopped in and bought a new one?
After a moment of searching, I find the kettle. It was still in its box, a receipt dated three days ago beside it. I close my eyes briefly. This is my life, apparently. An apartment that doesn’t feel like home, new appliances that I haven’t even unboxed days after buying them, and a warm, loving house that I would so much prefer to stay at, but won’t because doing so only breaks my heart a little more each time.
I laugh hollowly, a sound that echoes around the empty space. This is ridiculous. I pull the kettle out of the box and set it up, flicking the switch after I fill it with water. The sound of the boiling kettle is oddly loud and I head into the living room to turn on the television, desperate for some sound to make the world feel a little more full. A children’s show instantly turns on; Lily was the last one to watch anything on my television, after all.
“Fuck it,” I sigh, and head to my cupboard to pick out a movie.
On my way, however, I notice a blinking light on my phone. Barely anyone ever calls me on my landline, but it came installed with the apartment, so I handed out the number to everyone anyway, just in case. The only person who ever regularly calls the number is my boss.
Curious, I press the message button.
“Call received today at 4-oh-nine pm,” a cool, mechanical female voice states.
I glance at the clock. It’s only seven-thirty, now. When this call came through, I’d only been out of the office for just over half an hour. What was so important that my boss wanted to call me not long after I left?
Has a new story come in that he wants me to take up? Not to brag, but I am one of the most senior and experienced reporters at our newspaper office, and I normally get the big headlines, the ones that go on the first few pages.
“Hi, Georgia,” comes my boss’ voice. Albert McKinnon has a broad, English accent, and loves tea and bad puns. He’s a lot of fun to work for. “Sorry to call you at this time. Don’t worry about calling me back tonight if it gets late, I’ll speak to you more about this tomorrow anyway. I have an offer I would like you to think about. You don’t need to answer straight away. Our main office in the city is looking for a qualified, highly experienced reporter to join them to replace one of their own staff leaving in a few months. It won’t be straight away, of course, but they would like an answer in the next few weeks. As one of my best, I’m offering this position to you first. Please think it through carefully. I’ll see you tomorrow.”