“I know, I’m smokin’. But not like you.” I wink. “Where to?”
She points to the usual side spot of her house away from the door. It’s our little secret. Sure, it won’t be the end of the world if anyone sees us talking, but it’s her birthday today and I want to be respectful, since lots of people have words to say about my mum, and then some. God, I miss my cousins in there. Having family only a few years younger than me is just plain sad because we don’t visit often enough to feel like we’re connected by blood. They’re more like a dream that I love, than real people with quirks who I miss.
I hand Aunty Nicole the little box from my handbag. Her eyes light up like a glow torch when she sees the charm.
“Here,” I say, reaching for her wrist.
She gives me her arm with the charm bracelet dangling. My uncle got it for her years ago, but nowadays I’m the only one who contributes the charms when everyone else has forgotten about it. I unclip it, add my charm of a tiny teddy with a gem in his belly, and give her wrist back.
Twisting her charm to see it glint under the light, she launches on me again, her arms tighter this time.
“Please, next time? Don’t get anything?”
“I’m not poor.”
I’m not buying the “Don’t buy me more”. She’s getting loads more, for future presents. For me, it’s also an excuse to see her even when she tells me not to stir trouble for myself. Between her family’s judgment of Mum, and Mum’s dislike of them, there’s always a chance we could go months without seeing each other.
“There’s so much on here.” She jangles the charm bracelet, touching each one and stroking her favourites.
I stroke my chin and feign thoughtfulness. “Then don’t dare lose it. And if you do, make sure the insurance is high enough that it’s worth it. Win-win.”
“Kalli,” she sighs.
We talk for just five minutes, so as to not have any search parties come after us. I almost tear up when I leave because every goodbye is the same: Why did Mum have to say and do what she did? Nothing should be more important than sisterly love.
In the end, I chicken out of saying something about talking to Mum again. I’ve spent years getting to a place where it’s not weird between Aunty Nicole and I, repairing damage, and my thoughts and words are now jumbled up with me trying to figure out a way to break the cycle. I get in my car and drive off with unsaid words hanging there.
When I get to Nate’s building after, I walk around the corner and text him.
Kalli: Is Mark on shift today?
Mark is the guy who makes sure girls like me don’t get into rooms like Nate’s at this time. He’s also the guy who has two framed photographs from Nate’s collection in his house, so when Nate texts back with approval, I walk to the door and say, “Hi, Mark. How’s it going?”
He takes me in. Four-inch stilettos, a tank top that pushes up my boobs, jeans like a second skin and a change bag in my hands.
“I don’t want to know or see,” he replies.
“Same as usual then,” I say, waving him goodbye.
“Knock, knock,” I say to Nate when he opens his door.
“Hey, Kall,” the roommate calls. I give him a wave, and notice he’s going out tonight, too.
Nate’s eyes wander over me, and his teeth bring his lip in. “You’re going like that, right?”
“Why, Nate,” I say thrusting him into a backward step with my fire-truck-red polished nail, “are you saying I look like a hoe?”
He averts his eyes then fumbles through his cupboard. He throws out a pair of jeans.
“You look prettier than a hoe, yet able to make a guy wood in half the time a real prostitute would. But really, I’m just jealous and would rather other guys only imagine what your bare legs look like.”
“You’re not my boyfriend, Mr Rocchi,” I reply. Why is he so bent on forcing this?
Nate chooses a black tee with a print on it then goes to a drawer to fling a chunky golden necklace on the bed with his clothes, and some rapper cap, too.
“Dude, you look like a try-hard impressionist of some cheap-ass rapper,” the other guy says.
“I’m going all out.” It’s Nate’s excuse.
“Uh-huh,” I say. “But the issue is why you can’t look me in the eye.”
He continues to get organised. Suddenly, he grabs his shirt from behind his neck and flings it off before I have time to drop my jaw. In that moment I can only blink, and then continue blinking in case I need to wash away this dream.
My eyes bulge. “Holy shit!”
From his desk behind Nate, where the roommate is trying to squish in some last minute work, he makes a sucking gesture. I purse my lips and nod back to him. Oh, yeah. I want to lick and suck on Nate when he unveils stuff like that.