Giving her the injection earlier was also a challenge and if Steph wasn’t with me, I don’t think I could have done it. It doesn’t seem right putting your child in pain, even though it’s the only way from now on, even if it’s what will help her in the end.
But as proud as I am, as much as I want to turn down Bram’s offer, I honestly can’t. For Ava’s sake, I can’t. My pride must be swallowed if she’s going to have a shot at life. Living rent-free would save me $1000 a month. If I put that money into food and medicine, we could get by. It wouldn’t be fun, but I could do it. And that’s before I even get a job. I know I can’t afford to be too picky about that either, but I decided to give it another week just to see if I really can shoot for something that pays well and in my field. It’s a longshot, but I have to try.
I make us both some sliced avocado on whole-grain bread (the doctor said the way I’d been feeding her – low in sugar – was excellent and to keep it up. It’s nice to know that at least I didn’t bring it upon her). We sit down on the couch and I read a picture book to Ava between bites. Somewhere in the building I can hear a couple arguing loudly. The neighbor above me has a shower – the pipes rattle the walls. To think I could be out of this place, one foot out of the mess, one foot toward my future.
I just really hope there’s nothing else that is owed for this. That Bram doesn’t expect anything from me. I hadn’t really thought I’d be his sex slave. I just wanted to poke fun at his manwhore ways, but even so I have a hard time believing that I won’t be in debt to him in the end. The thought of owing something, anything, to a man like that is a scary one.
And I hate that I find it kind of exciting as well.
I stare at my phone on the coffee table. I could call Steph and get her opinion, but in the end, it’s not going to change anything. I know already what has to be done.
I fish out the card, pick up my phone and dial.
“Hello, Bram?”
***
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Steph says to me as she walks into my near empty apartment and hands me a giant cup of coffee she just picked up from Bluebottle. I slurp it back, even though it burns my lips and throat as we survey the place.
It’s Saturday morning and just over a week after I told Bram I accepted his offer to move into his apartment complex. My landlord was angry at my short notice but he was angry to begin with, so that didn’t make much difference. With Steph, Kayla, and sometimes Linden, we were able to pack up my apartment really fast. Even though it’s a small place, I was surprised how much junk I’d collected over the years. I think there’s a sentimental hoarder somewhere inside me but it was very freeing to give a lot of it away. Clean slate.
Ava is off with my mom in Livermore for the day, which is wonderful, although I’m extremely nervous about her giving the insulin shots correctly. I know I shouldn’t doubt my mom – I showed her how and she has a neighbor with diabetes just in case she needs help but I think my worry meter has been pushed to eleven for the rest of my life.
Steph, Kayla, Linden and Bram are all helping me this moving day. Bram said he would gladly pay for the cost of a moving company, but I don’t want any more of his charity, and to be honest, I wanted to see him sweat a little. We’ve been up since 6am and working like maniacs to get everything packed up. With a few final boxes we were back in the apartment, probably – hopefully – for the last time.
I mull over what Steph just said. “In a good way or a bad way?”
“In a good way,” she says, drinking her own coffee for a second, her bright magenta lipstick leaving clean marks on the lid. “I mean, this is amazing. I just hope Bram stays true to his word.”
“Well, I’m a charity case, remember?”
“I gotta say that surprises me too. Because I never knew he was big on charity, even when tax breaks were involved.” She smiles at me. “But you know what, charity or tax breaks or whatever, this is awesome for you.”
“Almost done?” Kayla asks, appearing at the doorway. Her pale skin is flushed with sweat, her long black hair pulled back into a ponytail underneath a pink baseball cap. She’s not wearing any makeup and as usual she looks fantastic. Her Japanese mother passed onto her perpetually flawless skin.
“Almost,” I tell her. “There’s a box for you.” I nod at a huge one in the corner.
“Oh, great,” she says sarcastically and goes over, bending down to lift it. “Don’t tell me all your hardcover books are in here.”