I pull off my plush daisy printed comforter and sit up in bed. That’s when I realize that smelling maple bacon on a Sunday morning is more than a little unusual. Miranda doesn’t ever cook. Sometimes she microwaves, but that’s about it. Also, we don’t have maple bacon. The diner has it, and the smell floating under my bedroom door almost smells exactly like it.
Someone laughs. And then someone else laughs. I jump out of bed, feeling oddly exposed, even though my bedroom door is shut and I’m fully dressed in pajama bottoms and a tank top. But why is she here?
Why is Elizabeth here?
I check my cell phone, no new messages, and then carefully open my door and peek through the crack that shows into the hallway. But of course I don’t see anything because the kitchen is not in view. I give myself a look over in the mirror, although I’m not sure why. It’s not like I need to impress Miranda or Elizabeth. But if she’s here, then that means anyone could be here. The whole freaking town could be in my living room right now, uninvited by me.
“There she is,” Miranda says sarcastically when I enter the kitchen with the fakest of fake cheery morning smiles on my face.
“Hey,” I say. Miranda and Elizabeth are both in pajamas, Elizabeth with her blonde hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head that actually looks adorable. Ugh. I hate when she’s adorable. Her boobs are bigger than mine and perkier. But she’s wearing a bra with her tank top and I’m not, so I really shouldn’t compare. But I do anyway.
“What are you guys doing?” I ask, again in my cheery tone.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Miranda says. She pours pancake batter onto a hot griddle and Elizabeth tends to a frying pan of bacon. “We’re making breakfast.”
“Oh, be nice,” Elizabeth says, nudging my niece on the arm. “I hope you like the diner’s bacon, because I stole a pound of it last night.” She turns around and winks at me.
I take a seat on a barstool and watch the scene going on in my own kitchen. “Sorry I slept so late,” I say, tapping my fingers on the countertop, feeling weirdly awkward in my own home. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I saw her drinking coffee on the porch this morning and I invited her over,” Miranda says. “Firstly because we’re friends but secondly because I knew she had that bacon.”
“I knew I was being used!” Elizabeth laughs and swats Miranda’s hand when she tries to steal a piece of bacon off the plate that’s piled high with cooked strips of it.
Miranda finishes the pancakes and then stacks up three plates with pancakes and bacon. We sit down to eat—well, I’m already sitting—and I try to pretend that this is normal and not weird. “So how do you like your apartment?” I ask.
“It’s amazing. I love the wood floors. Tyler did such a great job. I remember these places when we were teenagers and they were ugly as hell inside,” she says, making a gross face at the memory.
“Did you know who lived in them?” Miranda asks, followed by, “Oh my god, did someone die in here?”
“No,” Elizabeth assures her. “Well…I don’t think so. They’ve been abandoned for a while. We just played in them as kids. It was one of the only places to get away from people.”
Away from people? The bacon rolls around in my stomach. I do not want to think about Tyler and Elizabeth playing in these duplexes. Teenagers don’t play. For all I know, the two of them probably made out in the room where I currently sleep each night. Gross. I set my fork down after only one pancake. There’s no way I can eat anymore right now.
“If you’ve known Tyler that long, he shouldn’t even charge you rent,” Miranda says. Elizabeth laughs. “He’s not. He won’t let me pay no matter how hard I try to. He’s so annoying sometimes.”
Okay, now I’m really going to be sick. Beautiful sweet Elizabeth doesn’t have to pay rent. Well. Good for her. That’s so very great for her.
The sound of tires screeching around a corner makes all of us stop talking. Our street is home to just us, so speeding drivers isn’t something we’re used to. The tires squeal once more and then Elizabeth drops her fork. “Oh no.”
The fear in her voice makes me jump off the barstool and dash to the front door. Elizabeth is on my heels, sending her berry perfume scent all over me. We peek out of the front window. A beat up four door Camry parks in her driveway. “Shit.” Elizabeth’s hand covers her mouth. “Oh my god. I wish he would go away.” She’s whispering. When I look over at her, there are tears in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” I ask her. “Were you expecting him?”
She shakes her head. “No, but he’s been calling my phone all morning.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and sure enough, the screen lights up with an incoming call from him right now. Only instead of his name, which I think is Robert, the caller ID says DON’T ANSWER.
“Don’t answer it,” Miranda says. She shoves an entire piece of bacon in her mouth. “What?” she mumbles. “I’m hungry.”
“I’m not answering,” Elizabeth says. “I don’t want to talk to him. He only gets crazy like this when he’s been drinking.” She leans against the wall. “Maybe he’ll just go away.”
Right as she says this, his car door opens and he climbs out, wearing jeans and a white undershirt. He stalks across her driveway and stomps up the porch steps. Elizabeth gasps.
He knocks on the door—no, not knocks. He pounds. His fist slams a few times on her door and then he jerks his head and spits on the porch, his bottom lip protruding from a wad of chewing tobacco. “I know you’re in there,” he calls out. “Your car is here. Where the hell else would you be? OPEN UP, ELIZABETH.” He beats on the door again.
I reach up and twist the deadbolt on my own door, ensuring that our front door is locked. I look to Miranda and point to the back door. She nods and rushes to make sure it’s locked as well. “Is your door locked?” I whisper to Elizabeth. She nods. “Force of habit. Glad I locked it though. My keys are on the couch.”
As if thinking the same thing, Robert twists the doorknob and shakes, rattling the wall so hard we can feel it on our side of the duplex. He yells some more and then assaults the bottom of her front door with one disgruntled kick. Elizabeth’s entire body shudders in fear. I really am glad she got away from a man like that. Now if only she could get rid of him for real.
I place a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” I tell her, trying to sound comforting. “He’ll go away soon.”